


Keepers of the Pact

by Gilli_ann



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiny, Dragon-Blooded, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Past Minor Character Deaths, Pining, Romance, Supernatural Elements, Telepathy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For centuries, vampire King Arthur's nocturnal existence has changed very little. Then he encounters a young man who seems easy prey, but who has many surprises in store. Arthur and Merlin are destined to discover that opposites attract, but their budding romance proves complicated from the first. They are put to the test by prophesies, family secrets, and a dark force that threatens to destroy both their worlds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keepers of the Pact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elveatas (Ricecake)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecake/gifts).



> Dear Elveatas (Ricecake), happy holidays!  
> I have written this for one prompt of yours that really inspired me, and I've included as many of your tags as I could manage. I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you like it.
> 
> Thank you to my efficient beta, D. And thank you to the MH mods for organizing the fest!
> 
> The quotes that introduce each chapter are from Kings of Leon's vampire-themed song “Closer”.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Merlin BBC characters belong to BBC and Shine. I write because I love them, not because I intend to profit from them.
> 
> This story is authorised for AO3 only. It is not to be copied or used elsewhere without my explicit written permission.

**Part 1: The King**

**Chapter 1**

_“With the moon I run, far from the carnage of the fiery sun”_

  


“It's time,” Arthur said, looking down at his assembled knights. “The harvest moon is nearly full. The wind has calmed, and there's a light mist lingering in the hills. It's a good night.”

He raised his hand in the air, fist closed, and inclined his head briefly. “Tonight we hunt!”

The knights' reaction to his words was immediate and strong. It was like a wave of heat, a sudden gush of fresh blood, a hunger so intense that it made the air vibrate and the candle flames shiver. Their eyes glowed at him, some red, some green, each one with a bright luminous sheen much like the phosphorescence dancing across the far oceans on still nights. 

“Tonight we hunt, Sire!”

“Remember the Pact. Remember your duty. Go make the horses ready.”

They thumped their fists to their chests as one, and left through the gateway to the next cavern, aiming for the pathway and the stairs to the upper levels. They moved with preternatural silence. There was not the slightest whisper of noise from their boots.

Arthur looked after them, savouring the mood, the hunger, the lust that they all shared. Tonight they would be sated, if luck held.

His chest rose in silent mimicry of a full and eager breath. Tonight!

He licked his lips and blinked, bringing himself back to the moment, reining his urges in behind an age-old barricade built of duty and honour. 

Arthur turned sharply towards the gateway at the end of the hall. He walked through narrow corridors, descended spiralling stairwells carved into rock that shimmered with fool's gold, and crossed the smooth floors of cavern upon cavern. Although there were occasional torches and lit chandeliers on his way, he didn't need their light. His eyes were keen, and darkness was his proper element. The intricate system of caves was his home and had been so for centuries. He knew it by heart, and could navigate the maze blindfolded if need be.

He reached his destination; a heavy oaken door adorned with exquisite carvings of English roses and songbirds. The realistic-looking nightingales and finches were all impaled on sharp rose thorns. Their wings were spread wide in agony, a mockery of flight into death, large drops of blood falling from their open beaks and pierced breasts. 

“Morgana?” he thought, knocking gently. “Morgana, may I enter?”

“You may,” a voice responded in his mind. “I've been waiting.”

He stopped right inside the door and gazed at his sister. The white silk and ivory lace against her pale skin, nearly translucent against the bright-blue bedspread, made her look like a ghost. She was reclining on the bed, up on her elbows, playing with her white kitten, Raven. 

“Well?”

“We hunt tonight, Morgana. Do you want to join us?”

She sat up, nudging Raven to the side, petting the animal's pristine fur. Her own dark tresses were dishevelled, her eyes black as ink. 

“No.” Her head drooped, and she closed her eyes. “No, I am not hungry for lesser fare. I will wait for proper satisfaction.”

Arthur tensed despite himself. “Wait for what? Wait forever? You made me a solemn promise, and there's no expiration date.” 

“I know that, but then again, forever is a long time, brother-child of mine. _Forever_ will change many things.” She rolled over on the bed, lace frothing around her, an enigmatic smile on her face. She closed her eyes.

Arthur was both annoyed and unsettled. She usually had that effect on him.

“Have you had a vision?” he thought at her, seeking to communicate urgency rather than uncertainty. “If it concerns my kingdom, my knights or my keep, you need to let me know.”

“ _Your_ kingdom, knights and keep?” she laughed, a deep and melodic sound in his mind. “Oh, brother-child of mine, you amuse me.”

He shook his head and gestured impatiently. “I'll be going then. The knights are hungry.” 

“Happy hunting,” Morgana whispered, turning back to continue toying with Raven. She didn't look up as he opened the door and stepped through.

_“Your destiny awaits. You'd better leave now and find out what he wants.”_

'Destiny? _He?_ ' Arthur looked back towards the closed door. He realized that she'd spoken those last words aloud, in a voice of command. A slight frisson ran down his body, but he didn't turn back to demand an explanation. He knew she'd not have one to give.

* * * *

The once magnificent castle was no more than a ruin now, its mouldered walls covered in ivy and sheltered by oaks and beeches that had long since grown huge. There were several large moss-covered mounds where lofty towers had collapsed into rubble. The stables faced what had once been a closed courtyard and could not be seen from the outside.

His knights had already mounted up when Arthur exited the hidden door from the palace caverns into the ancient castle. The horses noticed the mood of their owners and were unruly, their shoes striking sparks against the few remaining cobblestones. 

The moon hung cold and heavy overhead, visible amid clouds drifting slowly across the sky, grey against black. A good night for hunting.

Born of long habit, Arthur checked that his sword belt was securely fastened and his sword in its sheath. He sniffed the air, instinctively using his sharp senses to tally up the presence of both the living beings and the undead nearby. A fox had its den in one of the old tower mounds. He could sense its erratic heartbeat. There were rodents in the ruins, owls and smaller birds in the trees outside - and their own horses, of course. 

There were no humans. He hadn't expected any. The ancient ruins of Camelot castle were known far and wide to be haunted and dangerous. No person in their right mind would approach, and certainly not at night. 

More importantly, he sensed no unexpected undead presence above ground. There were only his knights. All was as it should be.

Arthur mounted up, his stallion sidestepping and tossing its head, eager to be gone. The knights all wore black hooded cloaks with a crimson dragon on the left shoulder, and their horses were black or brown. They melted into the night shadows like phantoms. 

The hunger was rising in Arthur, as in all of them, - the longing for blood. Their veins were screaming and burning now, the pressure becoming unbearable. 

Gwaine looked up at Arthur under his hood. His expression was feral, his human-like face contorting into something else. His eyes glowed with a bright red sheen, and his fangs had already descended. Gwaine had always been the one least able to hide his need.

Arthur finally gave in and let himself go. He lifted his hand and dropped it in a sharp forward motion, giving the order.

“Let's hunt!”

And with that, they were off in a thunder of hooves, out of the castle ruins and away into the night, harbingers of doom, moving like the wild hunt across the land.

* * * *

Once they approached the first village they split up. Each rode his separate way, one by one they disappeared alone into the night. The last knight to leave Arthur's side was Leon, trusty and dependable in death as in life. They saluted each other briefly.

“Remember the Pact.” 

Arthur was alone. He urged Hengroen on through the night, following the moon that rode low above the treetops. They crossed fields full of stubble; - clearly it had been a good harvest; - and they skirted woods and villages. Now and then Arthur sensed large animals close by. There were deer in the patches of forest, and horses and sheep in the fields. The domestic animals were healthy and well fed. Camelot's villages were prosperous. 

Finally, he approached the border between his own kingdom and that of Old Essetir. He halted at the edge of a wooden copse, letting the stallion breathe. 

The night was quiet. Arthur reached out with all his senses, mapping the living beings as well as the undead. He could not sense any of his own kind nearby. It gave him a grim satisfaction. He didn't feel like fighting, and it seemed he wouldn't have to.

The need to feed was becoming overpowering. 

There were humans nearby, many humans, but they were all of them inside houses, safe in their homes. He cast his sensory net as far as it would go, but there were no humans outside. He'd have to make do feeding on the cattle in the field. 

Just as he turned Hengroen around, backtracking towards the moonlit trees bordering a sheep pasture, an owl hooted overhead. And all of a sudden it hit him; the knowledge that a prey was within reach. The sensation was overwhelming, a craving so intense that no will or reason could govern it. His whole body tensed. His face stiffened as the fangs started descending. Instinct took command.

He nudged Hengroen forward through the tall grasses, scanning the night as he rode on. There.... there! Arthur halted the horse and dismounted without the slightest sound, gliding closer. 

A dark-haired young man was kneeling among the gorse bushes on a gently sloping hillside, surveying the moonlit ground. He had a small shielded lantern, and a big basket filled with white yarrow blossoms at his side. Arthur regarded him as he sat back on his heels, shaking dew off green leaves and reaching for his basket. 

Arthur's face contorted and he bared his fangs in hunger, but he nearly shook his head in exasperation even so. What a reckless young fool, to be throwing his life away like this!

The youth leaned forward to reach for more yarrow stems. A gap opened up between his neckerchief and his simple tunic, offering a tempting glimpse of the pale, smooth skin of his neck. 

Arthur advanced, fast as lightning and silent as snow. His cloak billowed with the speed of his approach.

The young man jumped, yelped and looked up, fear in his eyes. He opened his lips to speak, but emitted no sound. He tensed, and his breath turned rapid and shallow. Arthur heard the suddenly speeding heart rate and smelled the heady drug of fear and flight coursing through the veins of his prey. It was an irresistible siren song. 

Then the young man turned and ran.

Arthur growled. This was perfect. “Oh, don't run away!” he called.

Moving quickly, he caught up and grasped his prey by the scruff of his neck, holding him still the way Morgana sometimes would hold her kitten. He had no difficulty immobilizing humans. His physical strength would let him overpower stags or bulls if need be. This gangly youth was no match for him at all. 

Arthur paused, savouring the moment, making it last. Underneath the scream of his hunger, there was a murmur of sadness for the life about to be quenched. So young, so handsome, with a heart that beat strong and true.... surely this mere boy had a whole promising life ahead of him, but now he was lost. It couldn't be helped.

“What are you doing outside?” he asked. His quiet, controlled words belied his inner turmoil. “Why be this careless? Haven't you heard of the Pact?”

The youngster's lips moved, his eyes enormous in his pale face. “I... there's a sweating sickness in Ealdor. Many are very ill. My... my mother too. The fever-stilling herbs are more potent when picked in the light of the moon, everyone knows that. I'm... I'm the apprentice to Gaius, the village healer. It's my job to get the plants.” 

Arthur sighed. “You place your duty and the well-being of others above your own life? That's honourable. I have to approve. But sometimes there's a dear price to pay.” 

“I've done this before,” the boy whispered. “I always got home safe.”

Arthur shook his head. “Your healer master should have taught you the elements of the Pact. It's impossible to know in advance if a night is safe.”

The young man twitched in Arthur's grip. “Gaius let's me go because.... he says I am charmed.”

“Charmed?” Arthur chuckled. “Superstition and nonsense.”

Yet even as immersed he was in the hunger, even with the fresh blood beckoning him, Arthur sensed that there was something... off. There was something about this prey, something vaguely unsettling and different. For one thing, his skin was hot like a flame to Arthur's touch, though the night was chill and the youngster should be clammy with fear. For the rest, he couldn't put his finger on it. 

But by now he couldn't think clearly, couldn't hold back, couldn't wait any more. 

He tilted his head, letting his fangs descend fully. The youngster trashed wildly, trying to break free, but Arthur didn't even notice. The heat and rush and smell of the fresh blood were calling him, screaming through him, telling him to feed, to feed, to _feed_! He struck like a viper, his fangs piercing the jugular to get at the blood pumping with a healthy pulse under that pale, lovely skin. 

Rich and heated blood, the essence of life, spurted and filled his mouth, filled his senses, filled his entire being. He held on, sating his hunger. His prey was a lost cause now. 

Unexpected images flashed through Arthur's mind: The view from the castle's high tower under the blazing noon sun. Himself, riding full tilt across the green fields, carefree and happy, whooping with joy, warm summer sun baking his head and shoulders. Sun blinded his vision, burned his eyes, his throat, his chest, and seared through his entire body.

Sunlight! Excruciating pain slashed through Arthur. Convulsively he let his prey go, pushing the young man away. He fell backwards on the dewy hillside. He was burning, his skin blackening and his innards charring. It was unbearable. It was as if he'd stepped out of night's darkness into the bright light of day. He was close to dying, and he knew it. How had it suddenly come to this? 

He screamed in agony.

The boy got up on his knees, clapped a shaking hand to his neck, and struggled to keep himself steady. He turned towards Arthur, and started crawling in his direction. 

“I told you I was charmed. _Now_ do you believe me?” 

The youngster's eyes were glowing like the noon sun in high summer. Arthur whimpered as the light burned his skin. Those golden eyes in a very distressed face was the last thing he saw. He tumbled headlong into complete darkness.

 

**Chapter 2**

_”Stranded in this spooky town”_

  
Arthur clawed his way back to consciousness, slowly and laboriously. It was like digging himself out of frozen ground towards a harsh reality and a surface where nothing but pain was waiting for him. He was burning! He opened his eyes and moaned.

“You're awake!” 

Arthur tried to get his bearings. Something cold touched his chest. He forced his blurry eyes to focus. It was the young man, his prey. Living and breathing, healthy and with a strong, even heartbeat. He was in the middle of applying cool, wet cloths to the raw, charred skin of Arthur's chest. 

“How are you feeling? Are my poultices and cold cloths helping?” 

Arthur closed his eyes. The situation was bizarre. Could he have been drugged? Maybe this was a special circle of hell, reserved for such as he?

“Am I dreaming?” he asked the wooden ceiling beams above his head. 

“No, no, you're awake! At last! It's been two days.” The boy's face swam back into Arthur's field of vision, an apologetic expression on his face. His lovely, young, innocent face. A white bandage on his neck was peeking out from under his red neckerchief.

“I'm sorry we had to tie you up, but Gaius insists it's too dangerous not to....“ 

A tentative smile blossomed on those full lips, lending light to a pair of fine blue eyes. “My name is Merlin. Merlin Emrys. What's yours?”

Arthur ignored him. He managed to lift his head a fraction, looking around, though his singed skin screamed at him. They were in a room with wooden walls and a floor made from rough-hewn planks. The place was cluttered with well-worn and rickety furniture, many shelves and a low counter filled with crates and bottles of mixtures. Bundles of drying herbs were dangling from the rafters. The subtle scent of summer hung in the air. 

There were a number of burning candles on the only table, which otherwise was stacked full of cups and plates, mortars and wooden boxes. A stuffed bluejay stood atop one of the piles. There was a fire on the hearth by the far wall. 

He was resting on the thin, lumpy mattress of a wooden bed, his arms fastened above his head and his feet tied to the bedposts with dull metal chains. He was nude, except for the damp bandages. 

“Where are we?” he asked.

“In Ealdor,” the boy replied. “Home. This is Gaius's cottage.”

Though it made his pain flare, Arthur pulled at the chains, struggling to break free. It should have been easy. 

“Don't do that, please. You'll only harm yourself. I know the metal looks black, but these really are silver chains. I'm sorry.”

“Silver chains?” Arthur croaked, incredulous. “Since when do villagers have lengths of silver chains lying about?”

“They belonged to my father,” his young captor said, as if that was a proper explanation. 

Arthur fought a wave of dizziness that crashed over him, leaving him weaker than before. This all felt surreal. How could he, with all his experience, his power and his supernatural strength be bested by a mere stripling of a boy – by this _Merlin_?

Merlin went back to applying cool poultices across Arthur's torso. It felt good. Arthur studied him through slitted eyes.

“Why don't you just kill me? All you need is one wooden stake, and there's certainly wood enough around here.”

“Oh no,” Merlin said. “Gaius wants to talk to you. Perhaps he wants to study you. He knows a lot of ancient lore. Such a chance as this may never come again. And I... I feel bad for you. I want to help you." 

“You feel bad – for me?” Arthur struggled to believe his ears.

“It's my fault that you're wounded. And besides, I think you're quite fascinating.” Merlin smiled shyly, lowering his eyes. His lashes cast long shadows across his cheekbones. 

Arthur felt a sudden irrational blast of rage. “You find soulless evil _fascinating_? Do you have a death wish?”

Merlin grimaced, looking uncertain. He had a very expressive face. 

“Maybe you didn't choose to be evil more than I chose to have this mysterious light suddenly flaring inside me? Maybe you can't help yourself hunting and killing in the dark, more than I can help my unusual body heat and my need to store up on sunlight?” Merlin bit his lip, ducked his head, and said no more.

Arthur digested the information, bile rising in his throat. This Gaius might want to _study_ him? Fool humans. This was likely to bring carnage to them, to the whole village. If he'd already been gone two nights, his knights would be searching now. 

He listened for Morgana's voice in his head, tried to reach her, but there was no connection.

The outcome would eventually be a sure thing, he knew that well enough. Common villagers couldn't win, pitted against his knights, pitted against Morgana's formidable powers and unpredictable moods. This could mean bedlam. 

Then Arthur was struck once more by the memory of those blazing eyes. Merlin at least was no common villager. 

“What are you? How is it possible that you could glow like the sun in the middle of night?” he asked.

Merlin shook his head, still not meeting Arthur's blurry eyes. “I'm mostly ordinary, just like anybody else, I'm a village doctor's apprentice. I don't know what happened.”

He got up in a hurry and retreated to the bucket by the door, gesturing apologetically. “I need more water for the poultices.”

Pain blazed through Arthur, roasting him slowly from the inside out. He moaned, fighting off the torment. 

“Where is this Gaius, anyway?” he asked at last to take his mind off the pain. “Is he in the habit of running around outside in the dark, too?”

“No, he's sleeping.” Merlin had poured water and some sort of green powder into a mortar and had started work with the pestle. The mix smelled of comfrey. 

Merlin indicated a narrow door that Arthur had believed to be a cupboard. “Gaius needs rest, he's old.”

“Old?” Arthur barked a pained laugh. “You think _he_ is old?” 

His chest cramped, veins constricting, and he started coughing. The dry rattle grated on every fibre of burnt tissue. There was a strong acrid smell.

Arthur sank back into empty darkness. It was a relief.

* * * *

The next time Arthur awoke, drifting towards consciousness through unpleasant dreams of fire and ashes, Merlin was cradling the back of his head, holding a cup to his lips.

The smell of the liquid was unmistakable. The cup contained fresh, still-warm blood. 

Arthur felt his face contorting, his lips pulling back in a snarl to reveal the tips of his fangs. He looked up and met Merlin's eyes. 

The boy had no sense. He was ministering to the most dangerous being he'd ever meet, and yet he was beaming.

“I knew this would revive you! Come on, drink it all up!”

Arthur tasted the pungent blood, crimson and iron. It was decent fare. Merlin tipped the cup against his lips, and he practically inhaled the heavy liquid in one urgent gasp.

Merlin grinned. “We just slaughtered a rooster in your honour. You get the blood, we're roasting the bird. Everyone has a feast meal!” 

He put the cup aside and used a piece of cloth to dry Arthur's bloody lips. 

Arthur was exhausted. He'd used all his limited energy in changing and drinking. The fangs had retreated, and he barely managed to keep his eyes open. 

“If you want more, maybe I could offer you Gaius's leeches to eat? Because of the sweating sickness they're all fat and full. You'd be doing me a service. I hate cleaning the leech tanks.”

Arthur snorted. His glare in Merlin's direction melted away under Merlin's teasing smile. It was difficult to be angry with the boy, even when he had Arthur tied nude to a rickety bed. 

He hoped the blood would work a miracle quickly, but he doubted it. Although he felt marginally more alert, he was still very weak. 

“What is the matter with you, Merlin?” he asked, his words slurred. “Don't you know that I'm even more dangerous when feeding?”

“You don't look that dangerous to me,” Merlin said pleasantly, starting to rinse the cup. 

“Are you the village idiot?”

“Am not!” 

If it wasn't for the searing pain inside, Arthur would have laughed at Merlin's indignant face. He suddenly found himself wishing he was five hundred years younger.

“Well, if I don't look dangerous, why don't you release me from the silver chains? 

“Because I'm not the village idiot.”

“Although the way he behaves sometimes, you could be excused for thinking that he is,” a new voice said dryly.

Merlin stepped back, blushing. “I'll check on the bird, Gaius. Wouldn't want to burn it.”

“Treating the bird better than me, then,” Arthur muttered, and had the brief childish satisfaction of seeing Merlin's large ears go red. 

Arthur's eyes shifted to the old man who'd appeared by his side. He was portly, wore a homespun robe, and had long, white hair. He was carrying a large basket with vials and boxes on his arm. Despite his obvious age, his eyes were clear. His face betrayed a sharp mind – for a human.

“You're the one who wants to study me,” Arthur growled. 

He twisted on the bed, once more testing the strength of the chains. They did not yield, and he was as trapped as before.

“I am Gaius, the village healer,” the man said, placing his basket on the floor. “And who are you?”

Arthur closed his eyes. By all the gods and demons, humans were tiresome creatures! 

“You know what I am.”

“But not _who_ you are. Although looking at this, I can make an educated guess.” 

There was a whispering noise, an object being moved. Arthur knew that sound. He turned his head a little, watching Gaius pull his sword from its sheath. 

“A strange object, this sword,” Gaius said, holding it out and peering down the long, polished blade. “Look, Merlin. Did you ever see a weapon like this?”

Merlin shook his head, surprised “It's …. is it really made of... hardwood?”

Gaius tested the blade's weight and nodded. “Amazing workmanship. A wooden blade inlaid with gold and agates, and with a very sharp point. I'd say this weapon was made for someone expecting to fight vampires.”

Arthur would have protested, but he was too tired. All he could manage was a rasping cough that left a taste of ashes on his tongue. 

“And the sheath,” Gaius continued, undeterred. “If I'm not mistaken, this lining is silver, though the outside is leather. This ruby inlay in the shape of a dragon is the sigil of an ancient noble house. “

“What does it mean?” Merlin asked, confusion plain in his voice.

“I believe it means we're entertaining royalty,” Gaius said, his words coming slowly. “Am I not right in that, King Arthur Pendragon of Old Camelot?”

Arthur's eyelids were too heavy, the memory of nearly burning alive too strong. He couldn't think clearly, couldn't scheme. All he could do was rasp out one single word. 

“Yes.” 

“He's their _king_? No wonder he seemed so arrogant and condescending!”

Arthur scowled, indignant.

“But why would he carry a sword to kill other vampires?” Merlin continued.

“I am the king of all Camelot, the old and the new, not only of... my own kind,” Arthur mumbled, feeling compelled to give this young innocent an explanation. “This village lies on the border of Essetir. The king of Old Essetir disagrees with the Pact, and mocks it any way he can. So I defend my kingdom, and my subjects, including the humans. That's part of the Pact.”

Gaius rubbed his chin, considering Arthur's words.“There's more to the Pact than I knew. It's not just about staying indoors after dark to be safe, then?”

Arthur closed his eyes. “It's... far more... complicated than that.”

“Yet if we were to remove your chains and just drop you outside in the dark, chances are that the Essetir undead would find you and kill you? Leaving everyone in Ealdor, everyone in Camelot vulnerable without the ruler who upholds the Pact and protects the border?”

“That is a risk, yes.” Arthur was sinking back into darkness, exhausted. He hadn't felt this weak in all the long years after he was turned. “But you do not know how dangerous it is to keep me here! I... am hungry. And my knights will....”

“What would anger them more, that you're being kept here while healing, or that you've been deliberately done away with, destroyed either by us or by the king of Essetir?”

Arthur hesitated, and didn't reply. He could sense Merlin's heart picking up pace in agitation, blood pulsing rapidly through his body, singing its siren song as it did so. 

Gaius on the other hand remained calm. His voice seemed to be coming from far away. “I deem that Merlin's instincts were sound in bringing you here, keeping you alive, and trying to help you. We would be more at risk if you were dust, or left for dead in the darkness.”

There was a rustle of clothing as Gaius reached out to pat Merlin's back. “Well done, my boy! Well done!”

“Does that mean I won't have to clean the leech tanks?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh.”

“But I'll reward you with the good news that your mother is quickly on the mend, and that I will continue to care for her. “

“You'd do that anyway,” Merlin sulked, demonstrating a flash of immaturity that reminded Arthur just how young he was. 

After a beat, Gaius turned back to Arthur. “You are what you are, and we must be cautious. We cannot take away the chains. For the rest we have to hope for the best. I'll look after my human patients, and leave you in Merlin's hands. He seems to have an unexpected knack of healing the undead.”

* * * * 

The next night Arthur was still firmly secured with silver chains, and Merlin had a new cup of fresh blood waiting.

Arthur had slept deeply but uneasy, his dreams filled with icy mist, screams, and stabs of pain from piercing rays of sunlight. He'd had glimpses of Morgana, reaching for him under a pale moon. “Your destiny, your destiny,” she'd kept chanting, but then she faded away into the dense fog rising from bogs and moors, and her words dissolved into thin air.

Merlin's face lit up when Arthur opened his eyes. Arthur sensed the young man's heart skipping a beat. 

“Good evening,” Merlin said. “Are you feeling better?”

Arthur looked down across himself, studying the many cloths and the patches of healing poultices covering most of his torso and legs. The pain had actually lessened. Merlin had clearly been caring for him diligently through the day.

“How do you expect me to judge my health, when you've got me trussed up like a pig bound for slaughter?” 

“You are better! Your voice is less raspy,” Merlin grinned, the bright smile lighting his beautiful face. 

Arthur looked away. 

“I've got something good for you to drink here,” Merlin continued. “Do you want me to spike it with Gaius's sloe gin? I know where he keeps it!” 

There was a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes that Arthur recognized with a pang. He'd seen something just like that many centuries ago, looking in his mirror. 

“The blood will do,” he said, closing his eyes.

When Merlin held the cup to his lips, he eagerly accepted the viscous liquid, feeling his fangs descending fully and his face contorting into something approaching a feeding frenzy. 

Merlin didn't seem fazed. “Yes. I see that you are better,“ he said, putting the empty cup to the side. “And I will have another chicken for dinner. Your visit is improving both our menus.”

Arthur licked his lips, savouring the slow strength that crept through his body. The fiery sensations of pain lessened as the blood worked its charm on him. He had to fight back the hunger for more, more, _more!_ These small cups weren't enough. With Merlin so close, his tempting blood singing with every beat of that young, strong heart, it took some considerable strength of will on Arthur's part to school his face back into normalcy and to make his fangs retreat. But he managed. 

Merlin tactfully occupied himself with practical tasks, giving his captive a moment of privacy. He kept his eyes averted and his hands busy as he started grinding herbs in a mortar. 

“These are calendula flowers that help against burns,“ Merlin said. “I'll change your cloths and bandages soon, and replace the poultices. Imagine, you are many centuries old!” 

Arthur laughed. “Your conversation is all over the place.”

Merlin's eyes flickered to his face. Then he just as quickly looked away. “You can't fault me for being curious.”

“I suppose not, but you surprise me. Other humans would be stiff with fright and unable to speak, their hearts beating like drums. And here you are, chatting and smiling.”

“Gaius has taught me the value of having an inquisitive mind.”

“It's obvious how much he cares for you. You said he'd told you that you're charmed. He clearly knew that you are a danger to my kind, rather than the other way around. You possess the power of sunlight, and it didn't come as surprise to him. Why is that? What are you?”

Merlin suddenly went silent. His whole face closed, his expression guarded. 

“Who was your father, Merlin?”

“That's none of your business! Who was yours?”

“King Uther Pendragon of Camelot, the last human king of this realm, may he continue to rest in peace.”

“Oh.”

“Who was your father, Merlin?” Arthur persisted. “Why the silver chains? Did you inherit your powers from him?”

“I... I don't know,” Merlin said, suddenly looking crestfallen. “I never met him. He came here from Essetir. He was on the run from something, or someone. He passed through Ealdor, but only stayed here briefly. He left my mother behind before I was born. That is all I know. She refuses to talk about him. She says it is over and done with.”

Merlin ground the pestle furiously into the mortar, round and round. “My mother says the past is dangerous. “

“Dangerous?” Arthur prompted. 

“I've sometimes heard the people in the village, talking, gossiping... when they don't know that I'm listening. They say my father was a spirit, or a demon, or some sort of dragon, and that I may be cursed!” 

Merlin looked up, seeking Arthur's eyes. “I just want to be ordinary!”

“If you were ordinary, you would have been dead,” Arthur pointed out, fighting off a flare of pain in his guts. 

Merlin grimaced, his left hand rising to touch the bandage on his neck. 

“The superstitious and ignorant always imagine all manner of silly things,” Arthur continued after a moment, careful to keep his voice level and matter-of-factly. “There is no end to the stories they tell about my kind, for instance; - the most impossible, wild exaggerations. But mostly their fears and superstitions work in our favour, so we're not about to correct their tales. When it comes to your own personal story, haven't you asked Gaius? He seems to know many things, and he must have met your father.”

“Gaius only says it's for my mother to decide what to tell me, and when. But he says that I'm charmed, not cursed, and that I can choose how to wield the power I have. He says I can be a force for good.”

“He believes free will trumps destiny and heritage, then?”

“Why do you care anyway, you... stupid vampire king!” Merlin suddenly flared. “You're only angry because I hurt you when you thought me an easy prey. You have long since made the choice to be a force for evil!”

Arthur sighed. “Indeed it may seem that way,” he said, but didn't elaborate. He didn't owe this human youngster the true story of his life... or his death.

Merlin's breaths were coming fast, his cheeks blushing with agitation. He drew his hand through his dark hair, making it stand up in endearing little tufts, and got up in a huff to put more wood on the fire. Afterwards he went over to the table to pour water from a bucket into a bowl. He stood there for a while, staring at the wall. Then he started mixing the freshly ground herbs into the water. 

“You are right. I do care about this. You seem to have the power to hurt my kind, and I would be remiss if I didn't try to understand the danger,” Arthur said, his tone neutral. “But you've been kind to me, and I sense how distressed you are. I care about that too.” 

To his surprise he realized the truth of his own words. He did care about Merlin. Cared about him the way he hadn't cared about anyone in more years than he wanted to count. 

“I'm sorry,” Merlin said, his voice low. “I didn't intend to be mean. You seem nice, as haughty kings go, - at least when you're not trying to drain me and kill me.”

Their eyes met across the firelit room. They burst out laughing in unison. For the first time the two of them shared a moment of mirth and perfect understanding. 

Merlin ducked his head shyly and went back to preparing the poultice. 

Arthur was thinking hard. “I remember a myth I heard, many years ago,” he said. “I thought it was just one more of the stories concocted by frightened humans huddling around their hearths. But there may be more to it.”

He was getting tired, his voice increasingly raspy and his throat burning. He'd have to be brief. 

“The myth told of beings that sometimes were called serpents, and sometimes dragons, because they possessed a fire inside. They were creatures born of the sun, and hunters of my kind. From the sound of it I imagined these creatures to look like snakes or winged animals, but maybe... maybe they were called serpents because they needed to bask in the sun? Maybe they were spirits of fire in human shape? Maybe your father was one?”

Merlin had turned pale. He smelled of fear as he stared at Arthur, his eyes huge. 

“Then what would that make _me_?”

“Half human, half spirit?” Arthur closed his eyes, battling pain and weariness. “Perhaps I shouldn't have told you this. I don't want you to think you are destined to hunt vampires.”

For a moment he heard Morgana's voice in his mind, a whisper and a laugh. Then she was gone again. 

Merlin finished making the poultice in silence, his hand moving slowly, as if in a dream.

Arthur lingered on the edge of sleep.

Finally Merlin came back over to him and started peeling away his bandages. He looked calm and focused, but his erratic heart rate and his red ears told Arthur another story. 

Once the bandages were removed, Merlin stroked a cloth dunked in luke-warm water up and down Arthur's limbs, gently removing dried-up salve and flakes of burnt skin. It was painful, and Arthur had to focus on staying quiet. 

“You've got a healer's gentleness,” he eventually said to break the awkward silence. “Your touch is very light and sure.”

“Gaius has taught me well. It seems your burns are healing. Your skin is less charred, and the wounds are closing. Is it the work of my poultices, or the chicken blood, I wonder?”

Once more Arthur was struck by the surreal circumstances. Here he was, in the nude, tied up and being tended by a half-spirit with blue eyes and sunlight in his veins. 

Merlin was as alluring as ever, the call of his blood as strong. And as he intently stroked the cloth up and down Arthur's flanks he became tempting in another way. To his own amazement, Arthur was growing hard. For five hundred years he had not felt physical desire like this except during the act of feeding. 

Merlin's touch made him young again. 

He was out of his depth. They'd formed a worthwhile, if tentative, connection. He didn't want to alienate Merlin now. 

“I'm very sorry,” he said. “How embarrassing!” 

Merlin dunked the cloth in water and resumed swiping the cloth over his flesh in slow, meticulous strokes.

“It's a common enough physical reaction that frequently happens to male patients,” Merlin said. “I know you can't help it. I don't mind.” 

Arthur relaxed and let himself enjoy the surprise sensuality and desire, his cock fully erect now. It wasn't a common physical reaction among his kind, but how was a human youngster to know that? 

“At least this gives me confirmation that one important part of me has been healed and is fully functional,” he joked. 

Merlin hid his smile. The blush in his cheeks and his increasing heartbeat were very fetching. 

“Fully functional, and _very_ impressive,” Merlin murmured. His blush deepened. 

Arthur could have killed for a little friction. This was a new sort of torture, however unintentional. Oh, to be able to touch himself! He squirmed on the bed.

Just then there was a knock on the door. They both looked towards the sound. 

“It's the middle of the night,” Merlin whispered. “No-one goes out into the night. No-one, except the.... “ 

The unspoken word hung in the air. The mood in the cottage changed in a heartbeat. 

In an act of very human modesty, Merlin draped his cloth over Arthur's rapidly flagging erection. Then he tip-toed towards the door. 

An instinctive, but unnecessary precaution, Arthur knew. The visitor outside could sense Merlin approaching, but could not enter unless invited to do so. 

Merlin carefully reached out to pull the door open. It swung inwards, as was the custom, and he made sure to stand a step away from it. No part of his body crossed the threshold.

“Yes?” Merlin said, his voice quavering a little. 

“Good evening. I am Morgana Pendragon, and I have come to take my brother off your hands.”

“Gaius!” Merlin yelled, stumbling backwards in his hurry to retreat from the door. “Gaius, wake up!”

Morgana didn't bother with Merlin. 

“We will have words, Arthur. Words! _Why_ did you shut me out? Why did you obstruct my search? Have you been bewitched? The Sight has failed to show me this!” Her voice was suddenly very loud and clear in Arthur's head. He'd never before been so distracted that he couldn't hear Morgana's voice from afar and sense her approaching.

“I came close to being incinerated,” he thought back, gruffly. “I've been in pain. I am bound by silver. Survival has been the only thing on my mind.” 

“Did they succeed in incinerating your _mind_? Have you forgotten what the only remedy is in situations like this? Arthur, are you mad?”

“I did try to contact you,” Arthur thought, petulant. “There was no reply, just fog and unintelligible whispers.”

Gaius came rushing from his room, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes bleary and his hair bed-rumpled. “What's going on?”

“I have no time for fool humans,” Morgana spoke the words aloud. “Know that if you don't return Arthur to me at once, I will not hesitate to set fire to your cottage. I'll kill you all.”

“But the Pact forbids that,” Gaius said plaintively, his mind clearly sleep-fogged. 

Morgana laughed, a cold, sharp sound with a brittle edge.

“Yes, order me around with the Pact, why don't you, annoying mortal? See what that gets you!”

“Hush, Morgana,” Arthur said aloud. “I know they'll be sensible. Give them a moment.”

Gaius and Merlin turned towards him as one. 

“Do you want to leave with this lady, then? She is one of yours?”

“She's my sister.”

“Well then. Merlin, come help me,” Gaius said. Merlin followed Gaius, his steps reluctant. They started loosening the silver chains.

“Wait, Gaius,” Merlin said. “Arthur, do you promise me that you will not harm Gaius in any way? Not now, and not later? We have invited you inside, the protection of the Pact will not keep you away from this cottage any more. Please give me your word?”

“You have my word,” Arthur said gravely. 

Merlin nodded, his expression serious.”I believe you.”

Morgana laughed shrilly outside.

Together, Gaius and Merlin removed the chains and helped Arthur sit up. They draped a blanket across his shoulders and supported him as he hobbled to the door. 

He managed to step across the threshold on his own and was swept up in Morgana's arms. For all her lithe and slender form, she carried her brother as easily as if he'd been a babe-in-arms.

“Arthur, you know what you need,” she cooed. “The blood of your maker will heal you. Come, you shall drink from me and be whole again!”

 

 **Part 2: The Dragon**

**Chapter 3**

_”You shimmy-shook my boat, leaving me stranded all in love on my own”_

  
Merlin heard Morgana's words and regarded her from beyond the threshold, his eyes wide. Suddenly he remember Arthur's sword. He rushed to grab it, and ran back to the door and into the night after the two departing vampires.

“Wait, wait! Don't forget this!”

Morgana turned, lightning quick. Her lips pulled back to reveal fangs, and her face contorted into a feral mask. She held Arthur tightly in her arms.

“Morgana, back off him!” Arthur whispered. “His blood would kill you. He'd be your bane!”

“I know,” she snarled. “I've seen it.”

Arthur looked shocked.

“I... I just wanted to hand you back your sword,” Merlin said uncertainly, holding out the weapon in evidence. “You'll need it once you're well again.”

Arthur held out a limp arm towards him. “Thank you.”

Merlin placed the sword in Arthur's hand, and hurriedly stepped back. Morgana looked like a white phantom, a ghost in the night with the face of a demon. She seemed much less _human_ than her brother, and she frightened him.

“Good luck, King Arthur.”

“Thank you, Merlin. For everything. Be safe.”

Merlin watched them disappearing behind old man Simmons's barn. The animals inside were nervous. He could hear the horse stomping and the sheep bleating. But the two vampires were gone.

He walked back to Gaius's cottage with slow steps.

* * * *

Life went back to normal in Ealdor.

The sweating sickness abated without casualties, thanks to Merlin's moon-enhanced herbs, Gaius said. Merlin moved back in with his mother. When he had time away from his healer apprentice duties, he did chores around their little farm. The puncture marks on his neck closed and healed, leaving two small scars behind, easily hidden under Merlin's neckerchief. 

The year turned towards winter. There was frost in the night and rime on the ground in the mornings, and no more herbs to be harvested in the moonlight. Most of Merlin's work took place inside now. 

He didn't expect to ever see Arthur again.

Every night when he went to bed, curling up under the light blanket on his cot in the cold attic, Merlin thought about Arthur. He wondered whether the vampire king had regained his strength. He remembered Arthur's enigmatic words about men who were spirits of light, the dragons. If only he'd known more! He couldn't forget Arthur's fangs at his throat, that dizzying pull into darkness. He vividly recalled Arthur's golden hair and pale, cold skin, his handsome face and his eager erection that one time. Those memories made Merlin restless and horny. Some nights he couldn't sleep before he'd sought his own cock in guilty pleasure. He brought himself off with urgent, breathless pulls, Arthur's name a sigh on his lips as he came. 

Then one night in the depth of winter, there was a sound from the cottage door. It was as if someone was tapping it gently with a finger. 

Merlin was out of his cot and down the ladder in a heartbeat. 

A few banked embers were glowing on the hearth, lending a little light to the darkness. 

Hunith stared at Merlin from her bed by the wall, fear chasing her sleep away. “Don't open the door, Merlin!” 

But Merlin already had his hand on the handle. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the door open.

Arthur was standing outside, swathed in a cloak, the wide hood covering most of his face. He looked up and locked eyes with Merlin.

“Arthur! I knew it was you!”

“Hello, Merlin. We meet again.”

“How did you know where I was tonight?” Merlin said, stupidly.

“I can smell you,” Arthur replied, his voice low. He smiled. “I will not ask you to invite me inside, but would you come outside for a moment?”

Hunith padded up behind Merlin, her bare feet whispering on the wooden floor. “Merlin?”

“I assure you he'll be quite safe with me, madam,” Arthur said, his voice grave.

“I know,” Hunith muttered, a hint of bitter sadness in her voice. “Trust me, I do. Merlin, don't be gone too long. It's the middle of the night.”

Merlin followed Arthur out of the yard and along the frosty field beyond. At first they walked in silence.

“You look well again,” Merlin eventually said. Small puffs of steam formed when his warm breaths met the icy air. 

Arthur stopped to face him. “Yes, Morgana healed me. I suppose you know how.”

“She's... she's the vampire who made you?” 

“Yes. But I consented. I allowed her to do it.”

Merlin bit his lip and looked down, uncertain about what to say. 

“It's a long story, and it's in the past. Don't think about it, Merlin.” Arthur shook his hood back. His blond hair gleamed under the cold stars. He flipped the cloak back over one shoulder. 

“Here. This is why I came. A gift for you.” Arthur held out a book, bound in stained leather and worn around the edges. 

Merlin looked at it, surprised.

“I've spent some time searching through my library,” Arthur explained. “This book has a chapter that mentions the dragons. It's not much, but.... it's all that I could find. I've had it copied. I and my kind need the knowledge too, since it would seem dragons aren't extinct, after all. But this is the original, and it's a gift for you, in gratitude that you cared for me so well when I was... ill.”

Merlin didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth, and closed it again. His cheeks flushed, and his hands shook as he reached out for the book.

“Speechless for the first time in your life?” Arthur teased as he handed over the book. 

“Thank you!” Merlin finally managed to blurt out, pressing the precious leather tome to his chest. “Oh, thank you!”

Arthur nodded, a sharp and definite gesture as if to indicate that he'd finished what he came for. But he remained standing where he was. 

“How have you been, Merlin? Gaius running you ragged?”

Merlin smiled. “Some things will never change. But he's good to me, almost like a father.”

They stood for a moment in silence, looking at each other. Every one of Merlin's breaths transformed into a puff of white steam. The frosty air in front of Arthur's face remained clear and undisturbed.

“Merlin...”

“Arthur...”

“You're so young. Too young.”

“Is this where I'm supposed to tell you you're too old?” 

Merlin stepped closer. He looked into Arthur's eyes, dark under the winter sky, but with that tell-tale sheen of red. “I won't say it. Because I don't think it's true.” 

Merlin lifted his hand to Arthur's cheek wonderingly. “You're so bright against the night,” he whispered.

Arthur reached out, stroking Merlin's hair and tugging gently at a stray lock. “Like raven feathers,” he murmured. 

Merlin made the final step into Arthur's arms. With a small sigh he moulded his body to Arthur's, embracing him tightly. His eyes fell closed and his lips parted. 

Arthur's lips were shockingly cold. 

Merlin wanted to heat them up, thaw Arthur's frozen body into passion. He didn't know how to kiss properly, wasn't sure what he was doing at all, but he didn't want to stop. Never, never. Arthur's tongue was like an icicle meeting his, but the kiss was sensuous and persistent. 

Merlin moaned. He rubbed up against Arthur, remembering his guilty pleasures in the loft, all his swiftly heating blood seemingly pooling in his cock. His heart was racing. 

Suddenly Arthur pulled free and stepped back, hands up as if to ward off a blow. His fangs had descended.

“This shouldn't... no. No. This is too dangerous for you, - for us both. We come from different worlds, we're like fire and ice, like day and night, and that's how it must remain, Merlin.”

“Arthur!” Merlin protested in distress, his body only slowly adapting to the sudden lack of closeness and friction. 

Arthur shook his head and looked aside, making an effort to force his face back into its human guise. “We are like life and death. This truly _has_ to be the ultimate proof that opposites attract,” he murmured.

“I wish something could come of this, Merlin, but it's impossible. I'll go back now to my kind and my duties in upholding the Pact. Return to your charmed life. Read your book. Learn and love, grow and thrive. Live a long and happy life in the sun.” 

“And what about you? Will you be happy?” 

Arthur snorted a small laugh. “The mere idea of a human asking me... asking one of my kind such a question! You're certainly not one for bearing grudges.” 

He pulled his hood up so that his face was hidden in shadow. He turned to go. It was as if he'd already disappeared far away into the night. 

Merlin stood crestfallen, pressing the book to his chest. His lips were raw and tingling from the many cold and intense kisses. His eyes suddenly turned blurry, and he blinked. There was a hollow ache in his heart. 

Arthur briefly looked back at him over his shoulder. His pale profile seemed eerily like that of a mask against the dark woollen fabric of his hood, disconnected and floating on air. “For all your youth you possess a timeless wisdom and generosity of the heart, Merlin. Never change. I think I rather love you... just as you are.”

With that Arthur was gone.

 

**Chapter 4**

_”What do you think of me? Where am I now? Baby, where do I sleep?”_

  
The cycle of seasons moved evenly on, summer following spring, and winter following autumn.

Three years passed.

Merlin was promoted from Gaius's apprentice to his partner. He travelled far and wide among the outlying villages along the Essetir border, helping with fevers and infections, and setting broken bones. Now and then he was out at night, picking fresh herbs under the moon or walking to a patient's home, but he never sensed any vampires on the prowl. Sometimes he would turn around abruptly, harbouring a secret hope that he might catch a glimpse of a distinct, handsome profile in the shadows, but he was always disappointed. 

News of fresh vampire attacks was few and far between in the border villages, but not unheard of. There was a tragic young couple in Longstead, lovers who'd forgotten the time and place; - they were found dead in the morning, drained of all blood. But the Pact held. All who stayed inside their homes after dark were safe.

Merlin spent many a late evening in the light of his bedside candle, pouring over the book Arthur had given him. 

The chapter about the dragons proved informative, but also frustrating. He wanted more!

Dragons, so the book told him in spindly calligraphic script, were spirits of light. No two dragons were completely alike. They could take the shape of a great winged beast, or that of a human – they could channel the light of a raging bonfire, or the bright light of the sun. Some were sentient beings, some acted purely on instinct. They were frequently restless and rarely knew a true home. A few dragons had been known to hunt vampires, using their inner light to fight the undead that prey on humans in the night. 

Dragons could concentrate and magnify their power of light and bring it forth at will, directing its use and its purpose, the book told Merlin – but it wasn't exactly clear on _how_ they did it. They lived long lives, rarely procreated, and when they died they dissolved into a haze of misty light. 

Merlin thought about his father's silver chains and his own need to bask in sunlight whenever he could. From the information in Arthur's book he had confirmation of what his father had to have been. Where he had come from, and where he went after Ealdor remained mysterious, though. But Merlin looked at his mother, quietly stooping over the cooking pots in the evening, or tending the vegetable patches in the morning sun, and he just couldn't bring himself to ask her about it. He didn't want to awaken sad memories. 

Whoever his father had been, he was long gone and would hardly be returning.

All Merlin could do, was start experimenting to gain control of his own inner fire.

* * * *

It would soon be spring again. The days were growing lighter and longer. Heavy frost nevertheless lingered on, unusually reluctant to let the countryside go. Merlin took great care to conserve his strength and to soak up some bleak sunlight every day. Food stores were running low. Livestock had to be slaughtered when the animals' fodder ran out. Children were getting ill. Everyone longed for the warmth of the sun, the true thaw that makes fresh greens shoot and buds burst.

And then there was a knock on the Emrys's cottage door in the middle of the night. 

Merlin rushed to respond, so eager that he nearly fell down the ladder from the loft. He pulled the door open without hesitation, but was disappointed. He had never seen the tall man who stood outside, swathed in a dark cloak with a red dragon figure prominently displayed on the shoulder. 

Merlin stepped back, too late remembering the need to be cautious. 

“Yes?”

“I seek Merlin Emrys,” the man said, his eyes meeting Merlin's. There was a tell-tale green sheen to them under his curly brown hair.

“That's me.”

"I am Sir Leon. I bring you greetings from King Arthur,” the vampire continued. “He hopes that you haven't forgotten him. He asks for your help in a matter of survival.”

“Survival? Oh no! Is he dying?” 

A small smile tugged at the vampire's mouth. “Wouldn't that rather be a cause for rejoicing among you humans? No, King Arthur is not dying... yet. It's the survival of you humans that is presently at stake. But if you die, we will also eventually die.” 

Sir Leon cleared his throat. “The king asks you, for old time's sake, to accompany me to his castle without delay. He will meet you there and explain.”

Merlin turned away to light the candles by the door. He needed time to think. “And I should believe you because....?”

“You see from my attire that I am one of his men, do you not? He made me bring along his seal ring as further proof. Here it is.”

Merlin raised one of the candlesticks higher. The candle flame flickered in the draft from the door. 

The vampire held out a heavy golden ring. Its front plate was engraved with a ruby-eyed winged dragon and embellished with crimson enamel. 

Merlin nodded. “I will join you. But I don't know where we're going. And I have no horse, just a pony.” 

“I have brought you a horse, one of our best. We're travelling far. Please make ready, we must be off!”

Merlin returned to the loft to pack some few items of clothing. He debated with himself whether to let his mother know the truth. Perhaps he should just leave a note saying he'd travelled to look after a sick child in the next village over? In the end he decided that she deserved honesty from him, and he left her a brief note. _'I've been called off to see King Arthur. Don't worry, I'll be back home as soon as I may. Your loving son, Merlin.'_

With that he stuck a couple of wooden stakes into his belt as a precaution, swathed himself in his blue woollen cloak, tied a red scarf around his neck, and followed the vampire into the night. 

The journey to Old Camelot would forever remain a blur in Merlin's mind. He wasn't used to riding such a powerful animal, and he had certainly never travelled that far in one night. At high speed they crossed fields and passed through forests, skirted villages and picked their way through rocky terrain. Finally, they entered the woods surrounding the ancient ruins of Camelot castle. The place was known to be haunted, and no living soul would dream of going near, by day or by night. Merlin had not ever met anyone who'd seen the castle ruin, even from afar. Yet that was where Sir Leon was leading him. 

A stripe of cold pale dawn had appeared in the east when Leon pulled on his horse's reins and jumped from the saddle. “We're here, and in the nick of time!”

Merlin was dazed with tiredness, the muscles of his back and thighs screaming at him. He looked around with bleary eyes, noticing the mounds of moss-covered rubble, the crumbling ivy-covered walls, the bare trees standing tall around the castle ruins. 

He slid from the saddle, catching himself on the bole of a young tree to keep from falling. “We're where?”

Leon was already kneeling some way off, knocking a signal which sounded hollow. Merlin hobbled closer. 

A section of the ground started moving. No, not the ground; there was a wooden trapdoor, hidden under a thin layer of dry leaves and moss. Now it swung up into the air and fell back with a bang. 

Merlin saw a mop of soot-flecked golden hair, and a tired face streaked with dirt. 

His heart skipped with joy. “Arthur!”

“Leon, get in, get in, dawn is upon us! Merlin, come on, come in!” 

Merlin jumped after Leon into the hole in the ground and followed him down a flight of solid stairs hewn in the rock. 

The trapdoor banged closed behind them, shutting out the first light of dawn. 

Merlin was trapped in a lair of vampires.

* * * * 

Arthur reached out to take his hand. Their eyes met. Nothing was said. Wordlessly, Merlin let Arthur lead him down stairs, along a corridor and through a hall. He was stumbling on his feet, tired beyond measure.

“I'm sorry,” Arthur said, urgency in his voice. “We need to move faster than this. Allow me....” 

He swept Merlin up in his arms and sped on. Merlin felt no apprehension, merely an overwhelming relief to be off his aching feet. 

Had he not been so exhausted, he would have been in awe at the wonderful sights that passed him by like illuminated visions of grandeur. As it were, his head rolled on Arthur's shoulder. He was barely able to keep his eyes open, and in no shape to reflect on the marvels along the way. 

Arthur kicked another door open, carried Merlin across the threshold, and let the heavy wood fall shut behind them. 

They were in a large room, aglow from the light of many torches. The rock walls were decorated with tapestries, swords and battle-axes, and several stuffed animal heads. Merlin noticed a large boar's head on the far wall. Towards one wall there was a huge bed, surrounded by crimson bed-hangings in some sort of heavy fabric, shot through with glimmering threads. 

The room was very cold.

“We made it,” Arthur wheezed. “These are my chambers. The sun is rising. I need to sleep. And after this long night, I believe so do you. We'll talk tonight.” 

With that he hurried over to the bed and lay down. He pulled Merlin into his arms, - cloak, scarf and all - buried his face in Merlin's neck with a sigh, and was out like a snuffed candle. 

Merlin pulled the covers up over the both of them, snuggled as close as he could, and followed Arthur into a deep dreamless sleep a few moments later.

 

**Chapter 5**

  
_”I see a storm bubbling up from the sea”_

  
When Merlin awoke, the torches had spluttered out. It was pitch dark in the room.

He could sense Arthur's still form beside him, lost in the sleep of the undead. The sun had evidently not yet set outside. 

Merlin desperately needed to pee, and he was hungry. Fumbling around for a bit, he managed to locate a candle on the bedside table. He concentrated the power in his mind, used his eyes to focus his inner sun, and lit the candle.

Arthur's book had told him that such a thing was supposed to be within his power, but he'd had to find out for himself how to do it. It had taken many exasperating evening hours of trial and error by the lake in the Ealdor woods to get it right. He'd not dared experiment anywhere else for fear of accidentally setting houses or fields on fire.

Now the power came to him on command as a matter of course. 

Candlestick in hand, he turned back to Arthur. The vampire lay completely still, his face serene and youthful, his hair golden in the candlelight. No breath stirred his chest, no tiny movement betrayed that there was life behind his closed eyelids. He looked like an enchanted prince in a fairy tale, waiting to be woken with a kiss.

Now, that was an idea, and too good to pass up! Merlin leaned over and kissed Arthur's full and tempting lips. He pulled back, waiting and watching. Nothing happened. 

He rolled his eyes at himself. 

The room was cold. Obviously the undead didn't need heat or fires, but even so, for a chamber this far underground, it was unexpectedly icy. Merlin's inner fire stood him in good stead, but he wrapped the cloak and scarf better around himself nevertheless.

Frantic now, he padded around looking for a chamber pot. Finding none, he ended up peeing in a decorative pewter bowl that stood on a chest of drawers. It couldn't be helped. 

Merlin walked around the room, looking at Arthur's belongings. He reached up to tap the boar's nose, and held his candle up to study the tapestries. They showed bright scenes of court life in a time long ago, a place far away; knights jousting, ladies in strange, multi-coloured attire watching and waving from the stands, flags flying against a bright blue sky. 

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered, but there was no response. 

Arthur was still sleeping. That had to mean that all the denizens of this mysterious underground court were at rest. Merlin decided to risk taking a peek outside. He grabbed one of the fresh torches that stood ready by the door, ignited it, and went exploring. 

As he turned to walk down the corridor, he saw many closed doors to his right, and a finely polished wall covered in portraits to his left. He looked at the paintings. They showed stately and serious-looking men and women clothed in strange attire and wearing crowns or diadems. One of the ladies, a beautiful woman with golden hair piled high with diamonds, looked very much like Arthur. She was the only one with nascent fangs visible. It made Merlin wonder whether the rest were human or vampires. He couldn't tell.

He turned to study the doors. He didn't dare open any, but walked the length of the corridor to where a gate stood ajar. 

The first thing he noticed in the amazing hall he'd entered was the huge round table in the middle of the room, with high-backed chairs all the way round it. Merlin wondered about that for a moment. Surely Arthur's court didn't have cause to sit down to dine? 

Above the table an enormous black chandelier was suspended, decorated with huge and very lifelike wrought-iron bats, spreading their wings wide in flight or in menace. Merlin raised his torch and tilted his head back to follow the chandelier chain upwards to the hook in the ceiling. The vast vault-like expanse high above was painted in a deep blue, with golden stars and darker shapes in between. Merlin recognized several constellations of the summer sky. He imagined the black figures represented hunting bats. 

He continued to look around. Along both walls there were rows of tall pillars carved from the rock, some of them in the shape of maidens wearing long dresses and baskets on their braided crowns of hair, others in the shape of knights in full armour. There also were strange human-like beasts with snouts, fangs and claws, and with tails protruding from under long draped cloaks. 

Merlin walked slowly back and forth across the intricate mosaic patterns of the floor, studying the many compelling sights in the flickering light of his torch.

It was a strange hall; a mix of truly impressive grandeur and an unsettling otherness that put all his senses on edge. His heart was beating faster, his instincts telling him to flee. 

The silence was unnerving too, and the increasing chill in the air. 

The time had come for him to return to Arthur's side. Merlin had seen enough. 

Just then he caught movement at the far end of the hall. A pale shape flitted among the columns, moving so gracefully that it seemed to be floating on air. Merlin's heart skipped a beat. Could it be a ghost?

He collected his wits and squared his shoulders. He was more used than other villagers to being out in the dark and to keeping his mind and reason about him. He'd seen this particular ghost before.

“Morg... Lady Morgana? The sun has set, I take it? I will return to Arthur, then.”

In a flash Morgana was standing right in front of him, swathed in silk and lace, white gems at her throat and wrists. Her long dark hair had been swept over one shoulder and glimmered with silver ribbons. Hers was a beauty as cold and magnificent as that of the stars in the night sky above Ealdor. 

“I wanted to invite you to my chambers, Merlin. We should become better acquainted,” she said, her voice low and pleasant.

“I don't think....”

“I am sure Arthur will join us _very_ shortly.” 

Merlin felt certain that he would. He sensed that Arthur would not want him to be alone with Morgana. But why not?

“How do I know you won't kill me?” he asked bluntly.

Morgana laughed. “That would kill _me_ , wouldn't it? I may be mad, or so they say, but not suicidal.”

“ _Are_ you mad?”

She laughed again. “Not on a night of stars, not when the wind is in the west, not when red rosebuds are ready to burst. For the rest, who can tell? Who can say?”

“There are many ways of killing a human. You could do it without drinking me,” Merlin pointed out, ignoring the sing-song hypnotic quality of her voice. “I'm sure you keep weapons near, knives perhaps?”

“Swords, young innocent!” Grinning, Morgana twirled and feinted as if she was holding a blade of steel. “There was a time when I used to beat Arthur in combat, though he will never let you know. And you're so smitten with him, you won't believe me.” 

She dropped her arms and shrugged. “I will not kill you, Merlin Emrys. Come along. I've had your saddle bags brought to my chambers. I noticed you'd packed food and water.”

That was the deciding factor for Merlin. He was very hungry and thirsty. And he was curious. Morgana was an enigma. He hoped to find out more, although he feared what he might discover.

The carvings on the door to her rooms gave him pause. Beauty and cruelty shouldn't mix like that. But he stepped across the threshold, and the door fell shut behind him. 

The rooms were very different from Arthur's. There was a light, airy feeling to them. The walls had been covered in plaster and painted, so that they gave the impression of tall marble arches, slightly skewed, opening up on lush gardens and a sparkling blue sea. The furniture was artful and light, with carvings of cats stalking birds. Along the walls there were many tall bird-cages. 

“Sit, sit,” Morgana said, herself sliding over to pick up a white kitten that slept on the blue silk cover of her bed. The animal looked at Merlin from the haven of her arms and hissed. Its eyes glowed red. 

“You frighten me,” Merlin said. Noticing the bundle of his water-flask and wrapped bread and cheese on a small side-table, he went over and sat down. He would eat and leave.

“You should be frightened. I've seen it.”

“What do you mean, seen it? Seen what?”

Morgana lay down on the bed, spreading her arms, letting the kitten fend for itself. “I was born with the gift of Sight. The gift, yes, so they called it.”

“Was that when you became a.... when you were born again as a... a... ?”

She laughed. “Oh no, that was while I still was a human, just a slip of a girl. Do you think you're the only one of your kind with unusual abilities? Though you're not really human, of course, pardon my faulty example. Well, I would dream what was going to happen to those I loved, good people. Most of the time it was horrible, and I couldn't prevent it. They wouldn't believe me, or the nightmarish vision came too late, or the very act of trying to prevent it caused the disaster to happen. “

She rolled over on her side, lifting herself up on one elbow and looking at Merlin. Her fangs had descended. “It stole my sleep. It stole my peace. It drove me mad. It was my curse. I thought I'd be rid of it after the change, I welcomed the offer of eternal life without all that pain. “

She lay back down again. “And it worked, too. I still have the Sight, but I have no empathy now. Horrible visions make me laugh. I enjoy disasters. Humans are like ants, milling about. Stir their nests and see them struggling. Humans are like cattle, and cattle are for butchering.”

Merlin nearly choked on his mouthful of water. It was terrible to hear someone admit to such callous and cruel views, as if discussing the weather.

“Do I shock you? Your heart is going very fast. You smell of fear. Did you think every one of us is as noble and self-sacrificing as my dear brother Arthur?”

Merlin found no words in reply. He was out of his depth in this underground kingdom where night was day and beauty was cruel.

Morgana curled up on her bed and started humming to herself, playing with the white kitten, paying him no more mind. 

Merlin went back to his meal in silence, trying to collect his thoughts. She had to have brought him there for a reason. Had she revealed it yet? 

“Why did Arthur bring me here? Why didn't you object?”

“He is my liege lord,” Morgana whispered. “His word is my command.” Her laughter was like a bird's warbling. 

Merlin shook his head. “I don't quite believe that.”

She sat up and pulled her legs under herself. “I wanted to get to know you. I didn't see you coming, not until very recently. And then at once I knew, with crystal clarity: You are Arthur's destiny. You are my doom.”

“What?”

“That's why I wanted you here. Did you never hear the old proverb; _'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer'_?

Merlin opened his mouth, but found no reply. His head was spinning. 

Morgana suddenly whipped around, facing the door as it was torn open with a force that nearly tore it off the hinges.

Arthur entered with a roar. “Morgana, back off! Merlin, are you all right?”

Arthur's fangs were out, his face distorted. Merlin got up and hurriedly went over to take his hand. “I'm fine. The Lady Morgana's been telling me...” He shook his head, uncertain. What _had_ she been telling him, exactly? Smoke and mirror tales.

“I'm sorry, Arthur. I was hoping to learn more from her about this place, and about you.”

Morgana cackled. “Let's tell him about the past together, brother dearest.”

“There's nothing to tell. The past is not our concern at the moment, your prophecy is. I will tell him of that, but not here. Merlin, let's go.”

Morgana fell back on her bed, arms above head, a beatific smile on her face. “Oh, but the past is not gone. I remember drinking our father dry as if it happened yesterday. His hypocrite blood tasted so sweet, too sweet. His eyes bulging with death and defeat were magnificent. Oh, the joy!”

Swift as a striking viper Arthur was at her bedside, hauling her up, pulling her so close they were nearly nose to nose. Their eyes shimmered and theirs lips had pulled back. They snarled at each other. 

“Don't provoke me like this, Morgana, or I swear.....”

Merlin tried to make himself small in his chair. 

The vampire siblings kept staring each other down, their eyes flashing murder, but they didn't speak another word. Merlin wasn't sure what they were doing. This was a sobering reminder that the undead are supernatural creatures, set apart from human beings. However much Merlin had come to like Arthur, he still didn't understand him or his dangerous kind.

As the tension seemed to reach breaking point between the two, they suddenly broke eye contact and turned their heads as one towards the door. 

One moment later there was an urgent knock.

Morgana's eyes twitched, and a vampire knight in a red tunic opened the door and stuck his glossy-haired head into the room. 

He glanced at Merlin. “Oh good, you're all here. And having fun, from the looks of it!”

Arthur stood up straight, letting go of Morgana. He scowled. “Get to the point, _Sir_ Gwaine, and be quick about it.”

“There are rumbling noises in the cave, Sire. We think a frost demon is on the move again.”

“Right.” 

Arthur was suddenly all calm efficiency. “Go gather the knights and meet me there. Merlin, follow me. I will need to arm myself for this, – and you need to hear what's going on.”

Arthur left, and Merlin scampered behind him. He looked back over his shoulder at Morgana. She had calmly resumed playing with the white kitten, as if nothing had happened. She truly was an enigma.

He had to run along the corridor after Arthur to keep up. The talk of rumbling demons was not making this night look any brighter. 

Arthur walked quickly, but not at a speed that a human couldn't follow. They reached his chambers, and Merlin cast one longing look towards the bed. Oh, to be able to just crawl back there and spend time cuddling up to Arthur in drowsy togetherness! 

The chill in the room was even more intense than before. Merlin shuddered. He would need hours in the sun, and soon, in order to keep his body heat up at this rate.

Arthur meanwhile had gathered up weapons and various pieces of armour. 

“I'm sorry, Merlin. You are frightened and confused, of course,” he said, his voice muffled by the hauberk he was pulling over his head. 

Merlin nodded, then shook his head emphatically. 

Arthur grinned, a knowing smile that went straight to Merlin's heart. “Your heart is beating like a rabbit's.”

“Well, just tell me about these demons and prophecies, then!” Merlin felt a flush creeping across his cheeks and knew his ears were getting pink. It was annoying. His heart was beating fast, true, but for more than one reason.

Arthur turned serious as he struggled with some iron-plate bits and pieces that apparently needed to be buckled across his chest and right shoulder. 

“There's an enormous cave here, under the ruin of the old castle; – a bottomless chasm that no-one has ever measured the width and depth of. Back when I was a boy, people would say that a dragon used to live there. That would be one of those massive, fire-breathing, winged beasts, of course, not a handsome young man with heated skin and sunshine in his veins.”

Merlin's blush intensified, but Arthur carried on. “There is no dragon there now, that's certain, nor have my people come across any such creature in the long years of my court. But now there's a new danger. There's been a rumbling noise from below, tremors shaking the rock, and the ground's been getting increasingly cold. Have you noticed the icy air? It wasn't like that before.”

Merlin pulled his red scarf tighter. “Yes, it is extremely cold here. I thought that was how you wanted it.”

“No, we like pleasant temperatures, we even enjoy.... heat,” Arthur replied. His eyes rowed appreciatively up Merlin's body once, before he returned to his armour and his tale. 

“Two weeks ago one of my knights – Lancelot, a very dependable man – went to investigate the tremors. In the depths he saw a glimpse of a huge shape. It was grey and rough like the crags and rocks, but man-like, and with an aura of icy blue air surrounding it. It roared at him and dropped back down into the deep. Last night it appeared again, and I wrestled it off the ledge myself, just before you arrived. Since then it's been quiet... until now.”

Arthur was struggling with his armour. Unthinkingly, Merlin circled him and started doing buckles up from behind, tugging at the leather straps to ensure that they had been properly fastened. He picked up Arthur's broad leather belt and buckled that on too. 

“I have missed having a squire, or a man-servant,” Arthur said, warmth in his voice. “Not that I consider you a servant,” he hastily added. 

Merlin was charmed by that hint of human-like insecurity in his centuries-old, arrogant king. He smiled.

“I'm happy to help, in small things and big, Arthur. You haven't yet explained where I come into all this, but I think I can make a guess.”

“Yes. Morgana has the Sight – sometimes, she sees visions...”

“I know,” Merlin interrupted. “She told me that much.”

“She did? I wasn't sure. My sister is volatile; – I'm sure you've noticed. I never know what she will do next.” Arthur sighed. “Six nights ago she had a vision that left her completely shaken and distraught. She saw that the frost demons are waking now, because they have overcome their fear of the dragon's fire at last, having been free of it these many years. Her Sight told her that the demons will freeze the earth, little by little, till no living thing can survive, and no human being will be left alive. And if all animals die, if the humans die, we die.”

“I... see.”

“Indeed.” Arthur gestured with both hands, palms up. “She prophesied that only the village boy with sunshine in his veins and fire in his eyes may be able to stop the demons, and only when fighting side-by-side with me. Apparently...” - Arthur turned towards the wall and carefully unhooked a broadsword from its fastening - “apparently I'm only fit to be your bodyguard and knight protector. Your fire is the main weapon we have. She says you know how to use it.”

Merlin turned pale. Being tasked with saving the world was hardly what he'd expected. “I... I do know how to use it, but only to light bonfires and candles. I don't know how to stop monster demons intent on freezing us all!”

“Well, you managed to stop me, or had you forgotten? I haven't, and I never will.” 

Arthur stepped closer and punched Merlin's shoulder lightly. “There aren't many beings above or below ground that have a hope of stopping me in my tracks the way you did. You and your fire were extremely powerful. You are probably much stronger by now, Merlin. Have faith in yourself.”

Merlin bit his lip. “This winter that never ends has to be the work of these demons, don't you think? I will do what I can to fight them. The villages are suffering already. I have no choice.”

Arthur grinned, a bright and very fond flash of appreciation in the dimness of the room. “I knew you would! And you're extremely resourceful, truly. Just look at your inventive use of my pewter bowl!” 

Shaking his head with a gleam in his eye, Arthur buckled a leather sheath onto his belt and slid his steel blade home. Then he turned serious. 

“I promise that I'll keep you alive, Merlin, or die at your side. Come on, let's go!”

* * * *

Not in his wildest dreams could Merlin have imagined the cave that awaited him.

Even in the flare of a large number of torches it was impossible to gauge the immensity of the chasm. It would be possible to mislay all of Ealdor in those dark and rocky depths, he thought, dizzy from standing on the brink of the void. There were crags and rocks all around, and a slow echoing din from beyond the reach of the torches' flames. 

Several of Arthur's knights stood guard inside the entrance. They all turned towards their king.

“What news, Percival?” Arthur said, addressing a knight of impressive bulk. Merlin would have believed him to be a frost demon if not for his Pendragon attire. 

“The noises are approaching, but slowly, Sire. We have seen movement down there, but not much. There's nothing at present.”

Arthur nodded. “Merlin here has powers to slay frost demons,” he said. “Morgana has seen it.”

All the pale, dark-clad knights looked at Merlin. The red sheen in their eyes was unnerving. He wished he'd had the power to turn invisible. 

“I hope she's right,” he muttered.

Arthur briefly squeezed his shoulder.“We can do nothing but wait. The noises are approaching. It shouldn't be long.”

They remained standing at the edge of the chasm, listening to clanking, grinding sounds that originated in the depths of the cave, but echoed to its roof. Merlin tried to concentrate, to collect his power, to make ready, but he felt unsuccessful. He was afraid. To think that the fate of everyone in Ealdor and beyond rested on his shoulders! His pulse was racing and he was sweating despite the chill in the cave. His every rapid exhale turned into a white puff of air. 

Percival nudged Arthur and pointed into the gloom. Arthur's posture stiffened, and he nodded. All the vampires were tensing, making ready. 

Merlin could still see nothing for a while.

Then finally he saw it too; - first the frost-blue aura, then the creature itself. A large, grey shape like an oversized bear made from mountain rocks, and surrounded by icy mist. It was clambering upwards, gripping onto rock fissures and crags, working its way toward them. Every time it moved there was a painful, crunching sound, and every time it placed one of its rugged limbs on an outcrop there was a noise like a small rock-slide. 

Merlin drew deep calming breaths. Practising medicine with Gaius had taught him the necessity to sometimes focus his mind completely on the task at hand and to let all his own emotions and worries rest. 

He drew on Gaius's lessons now as he tensed, balling his fists, calling forth the inner fire that he knew he possessed, building it up stronger and more intense than he'd ever managed before. 

The creature down there had sensed their presence. Perhaps it'd seen them? Merlin didn't know if it had eyes. It bellowed. The sound ripped through the cave and reverberated from every wall. It was as if they were standing in the middle of a thunderclap. 

The demon's speed increased. It was moving up towards them, roaring all the while. 

It happened so fast, it was like a blur. The creature was nearly upon them. It hurled boulders that crunched against the foundations of the ledge they all were standing on as it raged and came at them. 

Arthur pulled his sword and raised it. The knights stepped closer, ready to do battle. 

Merlin opened his eyes wide, reached out towards the demon, and exhaled all the fire he had amassed. A blast of concentrated sunlight hit the demon like a glowing spear. 

The anguished sound it made tore at Merlin's ears. The demon's frosty mist evaporated all at once like steam from a boiling kettle. The hulking shape disintegrated into single rocks and boulders, forming an avalanche that dropped back into the chasm, hitting outcrops and the cave wall on the way down.

Merlin fell to his knees, weak with relief and the release of so much power. He'd made it! 

Arthur and the knights crowded him. They laughed and thumped his back.

The sounds from the depths finally ceased. The echoes rolled for a while, and then King Arthur and his men were surrounded by flickering torch flames – and silence. It seemed almost eerie after so much noise.

Merlin got himself back on his feet. He wanted to throw his arms in the air, he wanted to dance. If the knights hadn't been there, he'd have thrown himself into Arthur's arms in utter glee and jubilation. 

“We did it! It's gone! Everyone's saved!”

The others' expressions were turning sober. 

Arthur reached out to take Merlin's hands in his, and looked into his eyes. “You did more than well, Merlin, and I thank you. But that wasn't the end of it. Morgana saw a host of demons, remember? I fear that this one was just a scout. This was just the first skirmish. What happened will give the rest of them pause, but they're coming. They're coming. The real battle has yet to commence.”

 

**Part 3: Blood Bonds**

**Chapter 6**

_“She took my heart, I think she took my soul”_

  
Arthur's chilling words drained Merlin of his remaining energy. He couldn't speak, and wobbled on his feet. How was he supposed to manage a bigger battle than this one?

Arthur placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. He was all efficiency in ordering both his men and Merlin. 

He told the knights to organize watches through every night. Next he turned to the well-groomed knight. “Gwaine, you're our resident expert on hunger, I believe. Go above ground as soon as possible and organize food and drink for Merlin here, - lots of it, and good stuff. Use our store of gold coins if you have to. Merlin will need to build up his strength.”

Sir Gwaine grimaced, but sketched his king a bow and trotted off.

Arthur gestured for Merlin to follow him. They started back towards the underground court's habitable rooms. At first they walked in silence. Merlin felt tired and discouraged. Eventually Arthur turned and instructed him to go above ground as soon as day broke. 

“Sometimes we'll all be sleeping. You'll need to find your way around here on your own. And more than anything you need to soak up sunlight. You must regain your strength. When we sleep, you should sleep too – but above ground, and out in the open whenever the weather allows it.”

Merlin nodded in agreement. He longed for sunlight, craved it like a starving man needs food and water. “But what if the demons attack in force during daytime, when you are sleeping?”

“You'll have to fight them alone. I'm sorry. We sleep when the sun is up – there's nothing to be done about that. Nothing will wake us then, not even the end of the world.”

Merlin swallowed. This was getting worse by the second!

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Merlin. I do not think there will be new attacks quite yet.” 

Arthur lifted his head, sniffing the air. “Daybreak isn't far off. I'll show you the way to the outside. Come back down when the sun sets.”

“Will we.... “ Merlin bit his lip and looked down at his toes. “Will there be any time for us to be together then? 

Arthur smiled, and moved closer. He embraced Merlin, pressing very tight for a moment. “Yes, there most certainly will, my lovely young demon-slayer. I'd like nothing more than to spend whole nights alone with you."

Merlin carried the feeling of Arthur's cold kiss with him all the way to the surface. His spirits were all of a sudden soaring again.

* * * *

A little while after sundown Merlin entered Arthur's chambers.

It'd been a clear and sunny day. There had been food and water waiting for him in the shed next to the stables. He'd seen no-one but the vampires' horses all day long, and had reclined in the suddenly-warm sun, basking in the light and soaking up its power. 

The demon attack in the dark chasm far below ground had already paled a little in his mind. It was like a nightmare, driven away by the bright daylight of the waking hours. 

But now he knew he wasn't dreaming. He was here, alone, with Arthur. Many candles and torches had been lit around the room, and they did not only give off a welcoming light, but also some heat. The room wasn't as cold as before. It felt comfortable.

A big bowl of fruit stood in the middle of the table, and Merlin's eyes were drawn to the unexpected - and at this time of year, exotic - sight. Arthur stalked closer. “It's because I'd like to feed you slices of apples and peaches, one at a time, slowly. I'd like to watch you eat. Then if you want to, we could play with fruit juice across bare skin.”

“Oh.”

“Or you could just eat the fruit right from the bowl. Do as you please.”

Arthur reached up to cup Merlin's face with his hands, and looked into his wide-open eyes. 

“Merlin, you're so young. And so alive. If you only knew how tempting you are to me, how desirable.... I shall always have to hold myself back with you. I want to undress you, taste every inch of your skin, make love to you here on my crimson sheets and then drink you dry. Your blood calls to me. I can hardly control myself.”

Merlin felt himself blushing furiously. He wasn't afraid. Somehow he knew in his heart that Arthur would never lose control and drink his sun-powered blood again. 

He wasn't about to back off. “You can't drink me, obviously, but I don't see why the rest of your desires shouldn't be fulfilled.” 

Arthur kissed him. Merlin responded hungrily. As before the contrast between his own heat and Arthur's cold body was thrilling. Shivers of excitement rippled across his skin as the physical sensations became increasingly intense. 

They stood for a long time in the middle of the room, surrounded by flickering light, lost to everything but each other. Eventually Arthur stepped back, keeping Merlin's hands in his. 

“Come to bed, Merlin. We shouldn't rush this. I forget how young you are.”

Merlin frowned. His lips felt raw and swollen when he spoke up. “For a human I'm not that young. I'm a grown man. Don't treat me like a little lamb.”

Arthur laughed. “I won't. I have reason to recall that you're anything but weak. It's just that we are a very secretive and close-knit group, and there's been no changes for centuries. It's strange to me, being around someone who doesn't remember the time when my father's castle stood proudly above us, and its white towers and crimson banners could be seen far and wide. ”

“I'd like to hear more about that,” Merlin said, pulling his tunic over his head. “I want to know more, if it's not too painful for you.”

It didn't take them long to undress completely. They huddled close together, cold and hot, drawn to each other under the costly bedspread. 

They lay face to face, their lips nearly touching and their skin tingling with the delicious proximity. Caressing and exploring each other slowly, their hands slid up and down, back and forth across flanks, hips, thighs. 

Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes, into the blue depths behind the red sheen. He suddenly felt uncertain. “All those years; – you must be very experienced.”

Arthur leaned in to nuzzle Merlin's ear, biting the lobe gently. “No,” he whispered. “When I was human, I was always too busy, setting an example to my men, living up to my father's expectations, and fighting through the nights. I mostly kept myself apart. And after that there hasn't been anyone. My hunger has been strong, but only for blood, not for carnal pleasures. Until now.”

Merlin blinked. “I have mostly kept back from others too, when it comes to this sort of intimacy,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against Arthur's, breathing him in. “My skin is always intensely hot, it's not normal - I was afraid to be branded a freak if I ever got too close to another person in that way. I never found someone I could trust completely with my secret. Until now.”

“We are two sides of the same coin, so it seems. I think you truly _are_ my destiny.”

Merlin recoiled despite himself. He sat up, gazing at Arthur's pale face and torso. “That's what Morgana said. She told me I am your destiny. She said many frightening things.”

“She does have the Sight. When visions come to her, she speaks the truth.”

“Tell me,” Merlin whispered. “Tell me what happened between you two all those years ago. You told me once that you allowed Morgana to... to turn you into what you are. Why?”

Arthur sat up too, leaning back against the headboard, staring into the distance. “It's a long tale, and a sad one. It will kill your passion. Are you sure you want me to tell it, here and now?”

“Yes.”

Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin close, so that his head rested on Arthur's shoulder. Their limbs slotted together perfectly, skin against skin all the way down.

“As you wish.” 

Arthur was silent for a while, but Merlin didn't press him. He rested quietly against Arthur's tranquil chest. His eyes nearly sank shut, so that the glow of the candles and the crimson and gold of the bed-hangings seemed to blend into one red and shimmering haze. 

“Once this land was prosperous, rich with trading, crafts and fertile farmland. The realm was governed from the royal castle. The castle keep and the surrounding villages teemed with life and activity. Then something changed. Subtly at first, but increasingly bold, the white ladies spread fear throughout the land. No-one knew where they had come from or who they were, no-one knew what their purpose was. But they walked abroad at night, and they stole both children and adults from their beds, draining them of blood and life. 

At first I thought these stories superstitions, mere tales to frighten children, born of some peasant's nightmares and fear of the dark. But soon the village dead numbered many, too many, and they were all found pale as the driven snow, if they were found at all. A few returned to their loved ones in the night to cause death and destruction in their turn. The white ladies were occasionally adding new members to their family, and they were all very hungry.”

Arthur shifted against Merlin, and he sighed. He spoke with a monotone, nearly hypnotic quality of voice when he continued. 

“The ancients, the first white ladies, were called Nimueh and Morgause. They were ruthless, strong and voracious, and they had the power to ensorcel their prey. They would call to them, whispering promises in soft voices. They would sing like sirens of darkness. Their victims would stand up and go out to meet them, even if their loved ones tried to restrain them. Those enchanted by the white ladies would find means to escape and go placidly to their doom.

The safety of Camelot's people was my responsibility back then, as it is now. Little by little I found out more about the white ladies and their kind. I discovered that a wooden stake through the heart would turn them to dust. I learned about the protective power of silver. I rode out at night with my knights to fight the ladies and to kill them if I could. But they were quick and unpredictable, and had powers I didn't understand. I lost many men during those desperate nights, but I grew stronger myself too, a better fighter. One night I managed to kill Nimueh. She thought herself so far above me, she was careless. That night I thought I could win the battle, that I would manage to bring safety and joy back to my people.”

Arthur shifted against Merlin, and closed his eyes. He didn't speak again for quite some time. 

Merlin felt heartsick. Sadness seemed to envelop the bed and trail like tendrils of frost across the floor. “Arthur?” he asked, worried. 

Arthur shrugged, his expression detached. “It all happened such a long time ago, back when I had a heart and a soul. I was human then, weak and confused and full of emotions. All that is in the past now.”

“You still have a heart, that much I know,” Merlin whispered. “Even if it isn't beating, it's good as gold and rock solid.”

Arthur kissed Merlin's temple and pulled him closer. Merlin found comfort in their quiet companionship for a little while.

Arthur continued his chilling story, still in a calm and distant voice. “I didn't know it, but Morgause had started calling to Morgana, my closest friend as well as my half-sister. Morgana didn't tell me about the white lady's summons. She withstood it for some time, but she was weakened by her terrible visions of the future, and by the conflict with our father. He believed that her Sight was sorcery that had to be vanquished. She had long lived in fear.

Eventually Morgana went out to meet Morgause one night, and got turned. I didn't know it right away. There weren't many people that got turned, you see - most victims were merely drained and killed. But from then on, attacks frequently occurred within the castle as well as outside of it. It was a desperate situation. I found myself fighting a losing battle, and didn't understand who my adversary was. My knights were killed or turned, one by one. I started to suspect.... I think I knew who the killer was, but I wouldn't believe it. I couldn't. Not Morgana! But finally I came across her feeding on Gwen, her own maid, a sweet and gentle young woman. They had been inseparable for years, although Gwen had been away from the castle for some time, helping her ailing father. Morgana held the poor woman's corpse like a trophy, and turned on me, grinning with bloody fangs. Her white nightgown was soiled with fresh blood.”

Arthur shifted again, his eyes hooded. “She wanted me to know.”

“Oh, Arthur. That's horrible. How could you bear it?”

“I don't think I did. It was too much for a human heart. I just... shut it out. I clung to my duty, and continued the fight. I turned nocturnal, always alert at night. I fought and killed several of Morgana's undead knights. What else was there to do? My people were dying. Everyone lived in fear that the next night would be their last. Camelot was falling apart.”

“This is all so terribly grim,” Merlin said. “To think that the people of Ealdor and the whole of Camelot know nothing about any of this today!”

Arthur snorted. “It's a very long time ago. Time heals, and conceals. That was always the way for you humans.”

“But not for your kind?”

“We live outside of time. Humans live and die, new generations come and go. But we feed, and we remain, and never really change. That's the nature of our eternal existence. We're caught between death and life, trapped in time, like mice in an endlessly spinning wheel.”

It was Merlin's time to chuckle, an unexpected outburst of mirth. He twisted to look into Arthur's face. “Mice? Trust me, that's the last thing you resemble!”

“Indeed. We are dangerous predators. Well. This story of mine is too long, let's get to the end. Morgana was taunting me. She grew increasingly bold. Then she killed our father, the king. I do not want to talk about that. I ascended the throne and became king, the ruler of a crumbling kingdom, a desperate people. Those were dark days. But there was one thing that Morgana couldn't manage, - she couldn't get to _me_. And she truly wanted me. I was her ultimate prize. She called me, but I resisted. She attacked me, I fought her off. She used villagers as hostages, I foiled her. And then I managed to kill Morgause. The loss of her maker was a heavy blow to Morgana.”

Arthur sighed, his cold veneer showing a crack. “We were at a stale mate, endlessly circling each other in a violent spiral winding down into darkness.”

Merlin shuddered and squeezed Arthur's hand. He looked with compassion into Arthur's eyes, but couldn't find words to ask the obvious question. Arthur replied to it anyway. 

“I offered her a pact. The Pact, the one both you and we now know and live by. Humans to be safe in their homes, Camelot borders to be protected, no more humans turned, the knights under my command. We made an agreement and sealed it in blood. Then I willingly let her turn me. That was what I had to offer. It was the best I could manage.”

“You saved Camelot, and the lives of so many people!” 

“For the most part I did. But I am always, always hungry. Sometimes I feed on humans, and the knights do, too - without remorse. Humans are our prey. I would have taken your life, remember? No-one's survived my attacks except you.”

“I don't know what else you could have done, back then.”

“Be that as it may, there was no turning back once the deed was done. I saw to it that the humans' part of the Pact was announced throughout the land: No-one who stayed at home between sundown and sun-up would be harmed. I lived in my castle with Morgana and my men till it crumbled around us. Then we built this underground palace, a shadow-keep where the sun can never reach us. And here we have stayed, and been safe, and the centuries have rolled past us, one slow night at the time.” 

Merlin felt a hollow ache in his chest. He was shivering. “You sacrificed everything so my people could live. But why do you keep Morgana close? How can you bear it?”

“She was never evil as a girl, just distraught and anguished when she'd had her visions. She was corrupted by Morgause, but I remember her as the fierce and brave girl she once was.” 

"You still have compassion for her."

Arthur pulled Merlin closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Morgana is my sister and my maker, I owe her respect. And there is her Sight. She warns me of dangers, she gives me glimpses of the future. It's useful.”

“That thing you two do, staring at each other without speaking, why is that?”

“We speak telepathically. All of my kind have that connection with their maker. Morgana speaks to all the knights that way too.”

“Oh.” 

His heated cheek against Arthur's cold chest, Merlin mulled the whole dark tale over in his mind. He tried to imagine Arthur as a young prince, riding across sunny fields, laughing happily. Oh, the desperation he had to have felt when his subjects and knights were dying! Grief and marvel pierced Merlin's heart. The heartbreaking story let him see not the ageless, arrogant vampire king who attacked him one night, but the desperate young ruler who had been fighting a losing battle. Arthur had been prepared to pay the highest price, to renounce sunlight for ever; – he had not only accepted death, but accepted that he would become an undead killer, a creature that he himself loathed and despised. 

Arthur's story awed and inspired Merlin. 

He didn't believe Arthur's insistence that he was completely different now from his human self, - nothing but a cold, emotionless predator. Arthur had diligently upheld the Pact through the centuries, protecting the people and the borders, had he not? He'd faithfully kept the bargain he made while he was still human. His sense of duty and honour clearly had remained unchanged. 

Merlin crawled even closer, offering his lips up for a kiss. 

“To me you're a true hero, King Arthur,” he said, sincerity in his voice and eyes. “If it really was destiny that brought us together, I'm proud and very happy.” 

Arthur closed his eyes, his face pinched. He embraced Merlin. Wordlessly, they held on to each other. 

Many of the candles had burnt down, and the torches had gone out. Arthur's chambers were dim. Nevertheless Merlin could see the single tear that sneaked out from under Arthur's lashes. It ran slowly down his pale cheek. The tear-drop was blood red. 

Moved, Merlin pressed his lips to Arthur's temple. Impulsively he licked the one tear away. The single drop of blood blazed on his tongue like the finest brandy. It made him see stars for a moment, and out of nowhere he felt like soaring and singing. 

Arthur's blood with its promise of immortality was the most potent drink Merlin had ever tasted. 

“Don't do that,” Arthur said, placing a cold finger across Merlin's mouth. “I love you for risking it, but....don't do it again. I don't want to unintentionally change you.”

“I love you too,” Merlin whispered shyly. He blinked. Suddenly he yawned. They had talked all through the night, with emotions running high. He was exhausted.

Arthur smiled, his expression fond. “I warned you my story would be a passion-killer,” he chided. “I've tired you out with all this talk. You need rest, and so do I. Let's sleep. I'll see you tomorrow night.”

Merlin nodded, his eyes already sinking shut. They shared one tender kiss and immediately fell asleep in each other's arms, closely entwined, both instinctively seeking reassurance and comfort in their joining. 

Outside it would soon be dawn.

 

**Chapter 7**

_“Feels so good, but I'm old”_

  
When Merlin awoke, Arthur was still stretched out in the death-like sleep of the undead.

Merlin dressed, found himself some food, and went exploring. 

He soon found the library. Gemstones glittered in the vaulted rock ceiling high above, and the whole cave was filled with shelves full of books. There were big leather chairs perfect for curling up in, and desks where heavy tomes could be placed. Merlin thought of Gaius's few, if priceless, books of medical lore. He was dumbstruck. 

The throne room glittered in red and gold, with marble floor tiles and colourful wooden statues of kings, knights and noble ladies. Merlin sat for a moment on the square wooden throne that had to be Arthur's, but it didn't feel right. He stood in front of it instead, inclining his head in respect.

The halls and corridors were filled with surprises. A huge polished stone statue of a lion with wings made Merlin stop and stare, scared for a moment that the creature would prove alive. Anything seemed possible here. An intricate mosaic that depicted a long-ago battle held his attention for the longest time. Around every corner and every door, there were artworks that a village boy from Ealdor could never even have imagined. 

Merlin took care not to trespass into the knights' chambers, and stayed well away from Morgana's door of dying birds. He owed them their privacy. On Arthur's orders the Camelot undead were showing him trust in letting him wander freely through their domain while they all were defenceless in sleep. It would take no more than one wooden stake and malicious intent on his part for them all to be reduced to dust heaps on the cavern floors.

All the time as he wandered through Arthur's magical subterranean palace, Merlin's thoughts wrestled with his feelings for the undead king and the big question of destiny. His life had turned overnight from calm and ordinary rural chores to a fantastical world of wonders and dangers, love and death. It took some getting used to.

* * * *

At sunset Merlin was back in Arthur's bed, naked under the covers.

“I don't want anything to kill our passion tonight,” he said, feeling bold. “I still want this. I want you. Even more than before.”

Arthur kissed him, slow and sweet, caressing his face and neck. Merlin responded eagerly.

Finally Arthur tilted Merlin's face up, one finger under his chin, and looked into his eyes. 

“I believe that you do want this, dragon boy. You're honest and brave, and very tempting. I can't hold back.”

“I'm no boy, remember? I'm as dangerous as you!” 

Merlin rubbed up against Arthur, relishing the stimulation, suckling at the pale skin of his neck in an effort to pull blood to the surface. He was getting hard, and their kisses had made him light-headed. It was new and exciting.

“I won't forget,” Arthur promised, one hand reaching down to gently encircle Merlin's cock. 

Merlin shuddered. The cold fingers against his heated skin were thrilling. 

“Fierce as a dragon,” Arthur murmured. His sure pulls on Merlin's stiff cock made Merlin arch and moan. He reached down to touch Arthur in turn. 

Merlin gasped and rolled on top of Arthur in excitement, bracing himself with his hands on either side of Arthur's shoulders. Their hips and thighs aligned, and he pressed down and pulled back up again repeatedly. Dipping his head, he glimpsed their erections, rubbing together and sliding between their bodies, skin on skin. The two cockheads were fully exposed and glistening; - the sight brought Merlin to the brink. 

Glorious sensations were overwhelming him. It felt so good. He rutted hard and fast against Arthur, seeking more friction. 

Arthur reached up, splaying his hands firmly across the small of Merlin's back, encouraging him and urging him on. Arthur's own hips were moving rhythmically. 

Merlin's heart was racing, his breath coming in jagged bursts. The pleasure generated intense heat in him. He felt it under his skin. It was coursing through him, rising to the surface, ready to erupt. 

He dove down into a voracious kiss to distract himself. Their tongues met and tangled. 

Arthur growled. Even in his dazed state Merlin realized that something was different. Arthur's whole mouth was different. 

Merlin knew what had to have happened, but couldn't stop himself from making sure; - the tip of his tongue explored Arthur's fangs. They were long and pointed. One tiny slip of his own questing tongue and it would be pierced, blood gushing forth to fill their mouths....

Hurriedly breaking the kiss, Arthur instead buried his face in Merlin's neck. He latched on to the skin there and licked it hungrily. But he didn't bite. 

Merlin felt the fire of the sun within him bursting forth, felt his vision blurring, and knew that his eyes were blazing.

He came. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the intensity.

Arthur followed him a moment later, shuddering silently under the cover of Merlin's body.

Spent, they rested for a while side by side and hand in hand. Sweat and semen were drying on Merlin's skin, cooling him down. Arthur looked over at him, his smile unguarded and his eyes full of wonder. 

“Merlin, that was - you were on fire. You didn't hurt me, but you _glowed_!” 

“D-did I m-melt your i-ice, though?” Merlin hitched, embarrassed at the feeble joke the moment it escaped his lips. 

Arthur's laughter reached the ceiling high above. He pulled Merlin close and placed a hand palm down over Merlin's heart. 

“I love you. I cherish everything about you, your fierce dragon-fire and all,” he whispered. “I never thought I'd get to say that to someone and mean it. I'm grateful that it happened while we've still got a little time, whatever happens next.”

Merlin determinedly disregarded Arthur's ominous last words, and snuggled closer, full of bliss. He had no words to describe the depth and width of his emotions. Hugging Arthur in silence, he was confident that Arthur would nevertheless understand.

* * * *

The following week brought them several happy nights.

Merlin and Arthur made love frequently. Their bond grew stronger as they discovered more ways of pleasuring each other and expressing their affections.

But they didn't stay all the time in Arthur's chambers. Merlin also got to know many of the knights. He talked enough with them to discover that their personalities were as different as those of humans. Lancelot and Gwaine were the knights he felt most connected to, although the two of them were very different. 

Always looking like a white phantom in her ivory silks and delicate lace, Morgana drifted by now and then. She behaved as if Merlin wasn't there, but would stare at Arthur without speaking a word. Merlin supposed that they were communicating telepathically, but never learned what passed between the siblings during their silent conversations.

When the undead slept, Merlin would bask in the daylight above ground. He dozed in the open air, soaking up sunlight and building strength, enjoying the warmth that early summer brought. 

He knew that the peace would not last. Although silence still reigned in the frost demons' cave, the ground and air were getting increasingly cold, and Morgana looked ever more haunted. These harbingers of dangerous times ahead were impossible to overlook. 

The court of Camelot was on high alert. Something was about to give, and soon.

 

**Chapter 8**

_“And it's coming closer”_  


When the attack came, it was almost without warning.

The noise was sudden and overwhelming, like volcanic eruptions from the deep. The earth shook. The air turned icy cold. 

The sudden frost in the ground was so intense that veins of moisture deep in the rock froze. Walls and ceilings cracked all through the underground palace. 

Before he followed Arthur to the demons' cave, and despite all the sunlight he had stored up, Merlin had to dress warmly and cover himself in several blankets. He had some difficulty walking in all the layers as he hurried towards the cave. 

When he arrived, pandemonium reigned. Arthur and his knights were guarding the ledge above the chasm, their swords and heavy mallets at the ready. Torches flickered along the cave walls. 

In the depths of the cave, there was much movement and noise. Frost demons were clambering out of the darkness, each one a small craggy mountain surrounded by a cold blue miasma of malice. They roared like thunder as they approached. 

Merlin had tried to prepare himself for this moment, but was taken completely aback. His heart dropped like a stone, and he stiffened with fear. 

This was so much worse than he could ever have imagined! 

He exchanged a look with Arthur, who stood tall and confident. Arthur nodded encouragement. 

“We'll be here for you, Merlin. The demons cannot kill me and my knights, but neither can we kill them. That is your task. We will protect you. For the love of Camelot.” He had to roar the last words to make them audible above the demons' din. 

Along the ledge all the knights raised their swords and saluted Merlin. “For the love of Camelot!”

Arthur stepped closer to Merlin and took his hand, squeezing it firmly. He leaned in to speak for Merlin's ears only. 

“And for my love for _you_ , Merlin. I'll be with you all the way. Dragon mine, we can do this together.”

Merlin nodded in gratitude, managing a pale ghost of a smile. 

He had to win this battle, somehow. He wanted to save the land and the people. He wanted to live. He wanted to be with Arthur for a long, long time. Arthur believed in him. He would have to believe in himself. 

Merlin straightened and concentrated his mind, steeling himself for the battle. His power burst forth easily enough, incinerating the first of the demons. The monster fell with a hiss of steam, its body an avalanche of rocks clattering into the deep. 

Fire blazed from Merlin's hands and eyes as he demolished demon after demon. He stood on the ledge, feet firmly planted, directing his power of light with precision. 

An increasing number of frost demons were reduced to heaps of rocks. But there were too many. Where one was destroyed, two appeared to take its place. 

Although Merlin tried to conserve his strength and his light, he was getting tired. His power was flagging, and additions to the demon hordes were still emerging from the depths. They kept coming, and bellowed as they climbed. 

Merlin struggled to keep fear at bay and to remain in that calm, inner place where he did what he needed to do, without interruption or distraction. 

The demons soon realized that he was their main adversary. They were closing in on him. Their thundering roars and the clanking of their bodies made his ears ring. 

The knights pulled closer too, protecting him and beating demons back into the abyss. Merlin was horrified to see one particularly monstrous shape smashing a knight to the ground. The demon flattened the vampire's body as it stepped on it to reach Merlin. He pulled on his very core of light and hurled all his power at the attacker, sending another massive avalanche into the chasm. 

Several of the smaller ones were nearly at his feet now, climbing onto the ledge and reaching for him. 

For all their valour in battle, the knights couldn't hold the demons back. 

Retreating a few paces, Merlin incinerated one more demon, but lost track of several others. There was a mighty clang to his side, a roar of defeat, and the noise of a rock-slide that wasn't of his own doing. He twisted to the side, wiping sweat out of his eyes despite the intense cold. Arthur was there, fangs bared, his iron mallet on the up-swing, getting ready to strike again. They exchanged a look and a frantic smile before turning back to the battle. 

New monsters were roaring at Merlin's feet, reaching for him, hurling rocks in his direction. He managed to duck one, and heard the clash as Arthur deflected another. 

One more demon disintegrated when blasted by his fire. Then Merlin had to jump back quickly as one of the knights stepped in front of him, swinging a mallet with crushing force against an oncoming attacker's head. The demon's blue frost miasma burst into mere flickers. Its rocky limbs flailed without control as it toppled backwards, accidentally striking the knight below his knees. He lost his balance and followed the stricken demon into the abyss with a cry. 

“Elyan!” Merlin screamed in horror, reaching out to attempt a rescue. It was too late. Sir Elyan was gone, lost in the chasm filled with monsters. 

Eyes wild and jaws clenched, Merlin incinerated several demons in short order, the considerable bulk of their bodies taking others with them as they hurtled down the steep rocky slopes. 

Merlin was exhausted now. He barely escaped a boulder thrown from below, and ducked away in the nick of time as Arthur swung his mallet at another roaring shape, its mountainous hands big enough to smash tunnel-sized holes in the rock walls. The demon swatted Arthur away with ease, no more bothered than a bear with a wasp buzzing around its head. Arthur lost his footing and stumbled backwards, teetering on the edge of the endless drop into darkness. 

“Arthur!” Somehow, Merlin found a reserve of power that he hadn't known he possessed. He sent the gigantic demon into oblivion, the steam from its frost field sizzling around them. Merlin threw himself forward, reaching for Arthur, and managed to pull him back to safety. They rolled together away from the edge. Merlin got up on his knees at once, gesturing at another howling nightmare shape. He watched as his fire born of sunlight broke it apart. 

Merlin couldn't stand any more. His legs would not co-operate. His powers were nearly drained, his fires burning low. 

He wanted to weep. New demons were still attacking. They were losing!

Arthur was at his side. He pulled Merlin close, almost cradling him in his arms, and shouted words of encouragement into his ears. “You can do this, Merlin. Nothing is more powerful than the sun. You're my dragon. I have faith in you!” 

Merlin drew a few hitching breaths as he leaned against Arthur and hid his face against Arthur's shoulder. His whole body shook with fatigue.

“Knights! To me!” Arthur roared. Every knight still standing encircled them at once. They battled off the onslaught of demons, brandishing swords and mallets with preternatural speed and frenzy. The naked eye could not follow their movements.

A shout of warning rang out through the noise. A demon had broken through the knights' protective barrier. Horrified, Merlin watched Lancelot jumping onto the demon's back and throwing his arms around its craggy neck. The blue nimbus surrounding the demon seemed to freeze Lancelot's limbs to ice, but his momentum nevertheless pushed the monster over the ledge. The two of them dropped into oblivion together. 

Merlin felt Arthur's arms surrounding him, grounding him. The undead were all so courageous. They fought for the Pact, used all that they had to protect the world above from the demons. Merlin wished he had their stamina. 

Then, like a bolt out of the blue, inspiration struck. 

“Give me your blood! Just a few drops!” he panted into Arthur's ear. 

Arthur tensed. “No!”

“Your blood gives me strength! It increases my powers! There's no time to argue. Remember why we fight. Remember the Pact!”

Arthur's eyes met Merlin's. They were on their knees, face to face, and for one moment they were in a world of their own. The hulking demons with their thunder and roars, the rocks hurled from every direction, the blurry motion of the knights fighting, the flickering torch-light, the blue fog of frost and the darkness of the void; it all fell away around them. 

“Very well,” Arthur said quietly. He slid one hand down Merlin's cheek in a gesture of devotion, and pulled back the sleeve of his hauberk. Merlin watched as one of his fangs expertly punctured the vein at the wrist. Blood welled forth. It looked dark against Arthur's pale skin, and it smelled of life. Closing his eyes and turning his face away, Arthur held his hand out to Merlin. 

Merlin took the offered gift without hesitation. He wouldn't need much, just a small sip..... 

The energy of immortality blazed through him like the flash and heat of a lightning strike. His strength returned. 

Merlin rose to his feet and stood tall, wielding the fire of dragons and the light of the sun. His eyes blazed. 

One after one the demons fell. The din and the cold and the demons themselves seemed distant and irrelevant as Merlin directed pure light at one roaring and craggy shape after the other. He would see this through! 

And he did it, Arthur by his side. Fewer demons were ascending the chasm walls. The roars became infrequent, and only the occasional rock was hurled at them from below. Merlin's gaze locked onto boulders and demons alike, and the fire of his eyes evaporated them all. 

He knew he was depleting himself. He was using everything he had. But because of Arthur's gift, he was still standing, still fighting, and he would not yield. 

The final shape emerging from the depths was enormous, larger than any that had come before. It was a veritable mountain on the move within the earth, crunching the rock walls into dust as it clambered from the depths. The monumental head had blue eyes that pierced Merlin's light and threatened to freeze his very core. The demon's frost and darkness pushed at him, enveloped him, tried to quench his remaining fire. 

Merlin threw himself forward, meeting the malevolent challenge full-on, hurling his flagging strength and his every remaining glimmer of light at the demon. 

The creature roared and struck the rock beneath Merlin's feet. The whole cave shook. The ledge he was standing on started to crumple, but Merlin never faltered. He threw his fire at the vast creature, raining it down over the demon without stop. After a few tense moments when nothing seemed to happen, his light penetrated the thick aura of cold frost. The demon burst apart with the sound of a massive volcano eruption, the force of an earthquake. Big boulders flew in every direction, and the gigantic limbs toppled back into darkness, thundering on their way down. 

Booming echoes rolled back and forth through the cave. 

The ledge cracked completely. Whole sections of it followed the demon into the depths. 

Losing his footing, Merlin felt himself falling, but was too exhausted to even try to save himself. He'd given his all, used everything he had, down to his bare bones. He was empty.

Air whistled in his ears, and tears came to his eyes. He knew this was the end.

Something halted his fall; - a strong arm and a firm grip. Merlin dangled in the air, suspended above the abyss. Arthur had thrown himself forward with the speed and sure aim of his kind, and caught Merlin's belt at the very last moment. 

Slowly he reeled Merlin in, hoisting him back onto firm rock. 

Merlin lay without moving, without breathing. His body was very cold. Arthur knelt down, taking both his hands in his. Gwaine limped in their direction with a sputtering torch in his hand. In the weak light Merlin could make out Arthur's face, gaunt and blood-streaked. There was a large, purple bruise on his right cheek. 

A ghost of a smile crossed Merlin's face. His eyes closed. “We took a terrible beating, didn't we? But we made it. We made it and survived. Thank you,” he whispered. 

Arthur squeezed his hands and leaned in to place a kiss on Merlin's brow. “It is I who should thank _you_ ,” he said. “My fierce and courageous dragon.” 

Merlin felt black nothingness moving in. It enveloped him like a heavy blanket. He wanted to say something more, but his lips wouldn't move. 

Darkness claimed him.

 

**Chapter 9**

  
_”Skies they blink at me”_

  
The sun was shining, and the air was pleasantly warm.

Merlin lay comfortably nestled in blankets and lush grass. Leaf-heavy boughs swayed above his head. A strong sense of contentment suffused him, body and mind, although he was both tired and hungry. He looked up to the clear summer sky and stretched his arms and legs, basking in the sunlight. He marvelled at his own hands, his long fingers, his every limb. He was alive, and his skin was warm. His strength was returning. 

To one side, he could see a crumpled, moss-clad wall, and he realized that he was still at the vampires' palace. Arthur must have carried him outside at dawn, hoping against hope that the sun would save him.

All of a sudden, full memories crashed back into Merlin's mind, and he sat up, amazed. He was outside in full sunlight! Yet after drinking Arthur's blood, surely he should have gone up in flames? 

He looked around. He was alone, of course – the vampires would all be sleeping. 

How had he survived? He sensed a new strange spark, a buzz in his veins, the sunlight's impact more heady and persistent than before. It had to be the effect of Arthur's gift, a bond between their powers. His dragon's fire had been enhanced with the strength of immortality. 

He wondered how long he'd slept. 

A basket of food and water had been placed near him in the shade of a birch. He enjoyed a slow and pensive meal, pondering everything that had happened since he came to this place. 

One thing he knew for sure: He and Arthur truly were each other's destinies, bound together by love freely given and blood shared. He smiled up at the white wisps of clouds, giddy with longing. Oh, he'd have to return to Ealdor for a spell, but he knew now that he had a new home. He belonged at Arthur's side. 

From now on, they would preserve and protect the Pact together.

As soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, Merlin slipped through the trap door. He hurried down the stairs and through the corridors to the halls of the underground palace. 

Arthur's court was gathered in the throne room. 

Merlin noticed with surprise that Elyan and Lancelot were present, and looking no worse for wear. He had to have slept in the sun for more days than he'd thought; surely it would have taken those two a long time to return to their old forms? 

Then everything else slipped his mind, and he had eyes only for the vampire king. 

Arthur was there, handsome, pale and perfect. Standing in front of his throne, he had already turned in the direction of the door before Merlin crossed the threshold. Arthur did not try to hide his joy. His bright smile radiated love and immense relief. 

Morgana stood right behind her brother. She did not look happy at the sight of Merlin. For a split second a snarl contorted her face. 

But Merlin saw nothing but Arthur, his Arthur, who rushed towards him, reaching out and laughing in delight.

“Merlin! Oh, Merlin! My dragon, you're back!”

“Yes, Arthur.” Merlin stepped into the arms of his king. “I'm home.”

*** * * THE END * * ***  


**Author's Note:**

> The bat chandelier above the Round Table was inspired by this RL Austrian one:  
> http://www.fullerroberts.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/x1.jpeg


End file.
